


A Thousand Dreadful Things

by TheUberhundt (JoanieLSpeak)



Series: A Thousand Dreadful Things [1]
Category: Hannibal (TV), Hannibal Extended Universe - Fandom, Pusher (Refn Movies), Pusher II: With Blood on My Hands
Genre: Addiction, Alternate Universe - Hannibal (TV) Fusion, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Dreams and Nightmares, Drug Use, Hannibal Extended Universe, Head Injury, M/M, Mental Breakdown, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Mildly Dubious Consent, Mutual Pining, My First Fanfic, Parent-Child Relationship, Rare Pairings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-28
Updated: 2017-07-03
Packaged: 2018-09-02 18:36:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 37
Words: 116,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8678827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JoanieLSpeak/pseuds/TheUberhundt
Summary: Tonny, a Danish thug and murderer, is on the run from the law and just stole away his infant son. Hiding in the US, he finds work and lodging on a farm owned by Will Graham, a mentally unstable man with his own secrets to hide.





	1. Within the City Walls

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place in early season 1 of _Hannibal_ and immediately after the film _Pusher II: With Blood on my Hands_. It is actually a total Hannibal/Pusher fusion. Parts I and II are more reflective of the Hannibal universe, while part III is more centered around Pusher.
> 
> Also, this was my very first fic. Please be gentle.

What felt like years had only been a matter of weeks since Tonny fled Copenhagen. He had stolen away his infant son in an inexcusable moment of panic and he had regretted every second since then. He was exhausted, paranoid, and withdrawing from a lifetime of drug use with nothing but an infant cradled in his arms.

In the few brief weeks Tonny had been alone with his son, the baby had grown accustomed to his fidgeting hands and smoky breath. The world had evolved into a far more demanding place than what Tonny had imagined and he had matured in ways he'd yet to understand.

His stomach growled, churning and knotting in both pain and hunger. Every few minutes he heaved into the tall grasses by the side of the road, hoping not to jostle the wearied baby asleep on his shoulder. He would right himself and wipe his mouth, briefly debating where he could stash the baby where someone would find him. He couldn't do this. He couldn't raise this baby on his own. There were no churches here, no police stations he was willing to approach to leave him, bundled and crying on a stoop. He was option-less thanks to his impulsive, irresponsible behavior.

He glanced up the road, impatiently anticipating an Italian who'd agreed to secretly assist the pair out of Denmark. This Italian had known Frank, an old friend of Tonny's. No one knew what had happened to Frank or of the strained relationship the man now had with Tonny. Frank had simply disappeared, so Tonny used this luck to his advantage and called in all favors he could muster. Being the Duke’s son had also aided in his escape. With the untimely death of the Duke, even relative strangers were willing to assist his struggling offspring. Losing a father should have been tragic for a child.

Tonny scratched at the phantom itches that worked their way up and down his arms, cursing his decision to force this life on his son. It was one of many hastily-made decisions – one that would inevitably destroy his life in the end. He continued peering over his shoulders, not just for the Italian, but for the demons that had been nipping at his heels since his last high. His eyes caught sight of a vehicle, and he anxiously scooped up his backpack, throwing it over his shoulder. With his son nestled in the crook of his arm, he stared down the black sedan that slowly pulled up beside him. He opened the door and slid in the back seat, never intending to set foot in Denmark again.


	2. Sorrows to the Stones

“A farm? Are you out of your _damn_ mind, Will?” It wasn’t uncommon for Jack Crawford to be so blunt, but Will was fairly certain he was attempting to hold back a far more outrageous outburst. Will's neck had already stiffened from each accusatory word that continued to spill from Jack's lips. He didn't have time for this nonsense and he refused to be talked to like a fool. "Do you have any idea how much work that's going to be for you?" said Jack, scoffing at the already stressed-out man sitting across from him.

Will’s eyes narrowed and he leaned back in the leather chair in Jack's FBI office. He strummed his fingers along the arm, impatiently waiting for the apparent scolding to cease. “No, Jack. I’m not crazy. I just need some time and a little more space. No one here will afford me that, so I’m taking it myself.” It wasn’t as though that was a lie either. Attempting to move on from the trauma of killing a human being wasn’t something to take lightly, and Jack knew the violent death of Garret Jacob Hobbs still weighed heavily on Will Graham’s fragile psyche. Will had ended a life, and it was a monumentally significant experience that shook the foundation of his very being.

Jack shook his head, still confused. He furrowed his brows as he attempted to figure out what would possess this intelligent, though somewhat mentally unstable, man to want to throw away his career with the FBI to pursue a life working in dirt. He huffed out an exasperated and befuddled sigh. “ _Farmer Graham_ ,” he goaded, tipping his head back and mouthing Will’s new title. “I guess it has a nice ring to it.” 

Condescension masked as pleasantries. Will was beyond thrilled. “I sold my house already, Jack. It’s a done deal.” He was painfully unamused by Jack's dismissive tone and mockery. No one here understood him, though they claimed to have his best interests at heart. Reflection, silence, time spent in isolation or in a boat  – that was the medication Will needed to move on and heal from this whole debacle. He didn't need class syllabi, anxiety-ridden trips into victim's homes, or accusations made about his sanity by conniving faux journalists. And he most definitely didn't need to be used by the FBI who saw him as nothing but a meal ticket. His mind was his own prison and he saw no reason to continue foisting this pain and suffering on himself, especially if it was to continue to end in tragedy. He was done.

“Ok, Will, I get it – space – you want it. Well, you’re about to get it - in spades, I’d imagine. I thought you already had space, in Wolf Trap?” Jack continued to shake his head in denial. “A farm is a living, breathing thing that takes a lot of time and patience. I hope you’re up for that, Will. Do you even know anything about farming?”

Will's lip curled into a sneer. Of course, he didn’t know. He had worked in law enforcement or academia all his life. He stared at the beads of sweat forming on Jack's temple. He wouldn't dignify this patronizing question with an answer.  

“I mean, fresh air, I get that,” continued Jack, still grasping for straws. “Buy a cabin … but a farm?” He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back in his chair again, still wanting a reason for Will's hasty and, according to Jack, completely ridiculous departure.

Will glared back at Jack somewhat expecting – and perhaps partially hoping for – an obvious plea to stay. With no apparent begging, Will stood up, convinced he had made the right decision for his mental health. “I don’t know, Jack. It’s just something I want to do. Wolf Trap is great, but I need more solitude, more space, more options,” he said with an annoyed exasperation for feeling like he continually had to defend each and every choice he ever had to make. “I’ll be in touch,” he barely whispered, glancing towards the door.

Jack stood up and offered his hand to the exhausted man standing before him. “You are always welcome back, Will. This isn’t goodbye, it’s just a good luck until you come to your senses.” 

Will firmly grasped his hand and huffed a snicker at Jack's offer of good luck, though he internally scoffed at the condescending tone certainly not lost on him. “Thank you, Jack.” He smiled a pathetic and undesirable grin, turning to the door. He reached out, his hand hesitating over the knob, briefly questioning everything about his decision to continue on this journey of self-discovery through buying and maintaining forty acres of land. No, he was right to do this. He could have his dogs and live in peace. _Peace._ That was all Will wanted. And after all, other than his occupation, nothing was going to change. He could still see and visit Jack, whom he had developed a sort of professional-based friendship with. He still had Dr. Bloom, who seemed oddly protective of him despite their mutual lack of knowledge about one another.  

Grasping the doorknob, he consciously decided that, yes, his mind was in _desperate_ need of regeneration and this move – this insistence that he be left alone and unbothered – was both a necessity and an obligation he owed himself. And since he'd begun his now-weekly session with Dr. Lecter, he was actually finding himself acutely aware of certain aspects of his mind that he'd never understood before. Yes, the man was a somewhat pompous ass and he often made ridiculous comments about his psyche, but as a psychiatrist, he could do worse. _Much worse,_ he assumed, though he did find his probing gaze to be both distracting and unsettling.

So Will pulled opened the door, leaving Jack's office with the intent to never again return to the FBI. This whole experience had been far more than enough for him. His mind was exponentially deteriorating and he needed a profound and drastic change.


	3. Some Notorious Ill

He needed a name. What decent parent allows their child to go nameless for months? Tonny sat in a booth at the airport bar, berating himself. He anxiously fingered a receipt and a stubby pencil he found on the floor, his son asleep on the booth seat next to him. He was no father. He was no man. He was a coward – a worthless, useless coward. What life did he think he could give this child? He was a drug addicted failure with no money, hope, or future. Thoughts and memories flickered in his head like a lightbulb straining to maintain its electrical current despite an apocalypse. _Frank_. Where was Frankie? _Out of fuckin' Denmark_ , he supposed. He recalled the surgery after his skull was cracked, waking up alone and in pain. The memory brought with it that same sense of helplessness and he rubbed the top of his head instinctively cringing in imagined pain. He remembered his first night in prison, and that thought released a hiss through his lips and an all-encompassing restlessness through his body. His knee endlessly fidgeted with nervous tension as his mind meandered through these dark passageways. He imagined his release from prison the second time and his sense of rejuvenation. A Ferrari he stole as a gift to his old man. Flicker and fade. The first time he saw his son. Flicker and fade. The last time he saw his father – all flashes – all painful. Each memory was chaotically stored away to be altered, twisted, and almost but never quite forgotten in his abused and damaged head.

A name. What civilized society allows the common man the monumentally important task of naming their own children? Tonny wasn’t up for such responsibility and knowing that made him slightly sympathize, if only for a moment, with Charlotte, the baby’s mother.

The plane would board for the U.S. in only an hour. The three-month-old’s boarding pass read _Aksel_ , the first name he had plucked from an alphabetized list. _Good enough for a fucking ticket,_  he surmised, _good enough for a kid_. _Aksel_ , he thought, _good enough for now_.

* * *

They touched down in Washington D.C. later that afternoon, but by the time the pair made their way out of the airport, it was cooling outside as the sun was lowering in the late September sky. They were both tired, hungry, and all alone outside this bustling foreign city. Making his way through bus schedules was far too complex for Tonny, especially with nothing in his native tongue, so he packed up his backpack and with Aksel in his arms, started walking.

A rainy and painfully tiresome hour later they came upon a small motel that would suit their current need for a dry and warm room for the night. The baby, however, would spend the evening exhausted and crying alone in this room, while Tonny searched the area for anything of value he could lift. Everywhere he wandered, people gawked and stared, avoiding eye contact with him, a tattooed and Danish speaking hoodlum, so he fully accepted the fact that life here was going to be just as horrible as life back in Denmark. When he was finally forced to give up for the night with a wallet and a half gallon of milk from a gas station, he made his way back to his bleak respite.

He was unceremoniously greeted by a young man and woman standing in front of his motel room door. He pushed between them, half expecting a fight, and attempted to unlock the door.

“Hey. _Hey!”_ shouted the man forcing himself in Tonny’s face. He refused to acknowledge the angry man but was getting increasingly flustered with the key that wouldn’t settle in the lock. _“HEY!”_ The man persisted, grabbing Tonny’s shoulder to pull him back. Tonny flew around and grabbed the man’s other arm, shoving him back. “There's a baby in there, you asshole! What the hell are you doing?! It’s been crying for an hour!”

“Fuck off!” he shouted, spitting in the man’s face. At least he knew these few English words whose meaning and inflection translated well in most languages. "He muttered under his breath, hoping to avoid a fight, but ordering one’s opposition to go to hell wasn’t an earnest attempt to stave one off.

“Oh, you piece of _shit_ …” growled the man, sensing his tone. He lunged at Tonny, kneeing him in the gut and punching him in the side of the head. Tonny hit the ground face first, bloodying his nose and eyebrow.

 _“Fuck!”_ he hissed, his vision blurring. Tonny stumbled to his feet and took a swing at the man, though partially incapacitated, naturally missing his target.

“Tony, let’s just go!” screamed the woman, backing towards their car.

Tonny sat up and looked past the man lording over him and rested his gaze on the frightened woman.  _“Tony …?”_ he asked, almost impulsively.

“The fuck you talkin’ about, you piece of shit?” hollered the man and with a kick to the chin, Tonny hit the ground once again, blacking out entirely.

* * *

_“Excuse me, sir? Sir?! Are you ok?”_

Tonny painfully opened his eyes to see two young men and a woman worriedly looking down at him. He reached up and touched his bloody face, cringing at the sharp sting.

“Should we call the police, or-or an ambulance?” said one man, now holding a cell phone.

“Nej,” Tonny blurted out, dizzy and breathless. _No police_ , he thought to himself. His mind immediately rushed through the potential outcomes of this fight - being arrested, being imprisoned, being deported, losing Aksel. His pulse raced at this last thought.

“What did he say?” the woman asked. Tonny patted his arms and chest and discovered that other than his wounded face, he only had what felt like a very bruised ribcage.

“No, no police. I okay. See?” He rolled to his side, attempting to stand. “I need to go in room.” The act of rolling over had him light-headed and dazed so he sat up on his knees and attempted to will his bleary vision to dissipate.

“He looks like a junkie! I’d just leave him!” ordered an older man from the sidewalk. As quickly as he had hollered his suggestion, he was already walking away.

The three people crowding Tonny ignored the old man. The woman, however, shook her head in disgust. “Sir," she said staring down at Tonny still kneeling in the parking lot, "You might have a concussion. Where are you from?” The two young men patted Tonny’s shoulder before grabbing his arms and lifting him to his feet.

“Please, no, I need to get in room,” he repeated, confused and disoriented. He looked at the motel door to see his key still dangling from the doorknob. He quickly turned to the door, rattling the key frantically, until the door finally gave way, swinging wide open. He rushed inside, slamming the door and locking the knob behind him. He desperately flipped on the lights and his eyes fell on the mound of blankets still piled on the floor. He dropped to his knees and furiously unwrapped the bundle. Pulling back the blanket, he found a sweaty red-faced baby passed out in the center. His heart seized in his throat as he gasped at the agonizing sight. What was he supposed to do?! He picked up the limp baby and held him against his chest. Aksel whimpered and it cut straight to the center of his father’s breaking heart. He collapsed on the floor and sobbed, cradling his listless child. Why the hell had he brought this baby here?

He was lost in a foreign and seemingly inhospitable place. He had nothing to grasp let alone the leverage to pull himself out. He was falling and scared and clutching an innocent child to his chest. He should have left the baby on the floor of Ø's apartment. He should have run and hid alone. He should have walked away from his father's garage and never looked back. He should have killed that woman when he had the chance. No, he didn't regret that decision. But there were so many other poorly laid plans and hastily made decisions to deal with, that it was like his skin burned with a fire that grew so rapidly, that he'd never be able to stifle it.

When his tears subsided and he composed himself, he attempted to settle the wailing child. He needed milk and now he had nothing. A sudden knock at the door had him rush to the bathroom and instinctively unlock and attempt to open the window to escape. He rattled and shoved the window frame to no avail, so he was forced to decide if he should answer the suspicious knock or hide in the darkness of the empty bathroom. But he didn't have the luxury of choices anymore.

“What?!” he shouted at the phantom behind the door. Why wouldn't they leave him alone?

“Hey buddy, you need help?” pleaded the disembodied voice, though it obviously wasn’t disembodied. The voice belonged to one of the two men that had stood over him just moments ago.

“No! Go away!” Tonny shouted back, cradling Aksel against his body in an attempt to muffle the boy's cries. Why weren't they leaving?

“ _Come on man, he’s fine. Let’s go_ ,” said a voice not directed at Tonny but rather the other young man of the group. Aksel hollered at the commotion outside and buried his face in Tonny’s sweatshirt.

“Can we help you if you need help, sir? I’m a case manager for a shelter not far from here. I’d like to help you if you’d allow it.” The woman seemed more persistent than the young men had been and Tonny momentarily debated her suggestion. She offered _help_.

He knew he was desperate. That desperation had etched its way completely through him and he knew he had no choice here. He was injured and had almost killed his son. But he hesitated before answering. When is mind failed to figure out an alternative plan, he decided to accept their offer. “No police. Ok? Please?” he begged.

“No police,” the female voice agreed. He could hear her sigh at his potential cooperation, an audible relief resonating through her tone. “Can we come in? Or can you come out?” she asked. “Is there a child in there with you?”

“My … son,” choked Tonny, hiding a guttural sob. He wasn’t even sure he should be allowed to call him that.

“Ok, man. We’d love to help you and your son.” One of the men was back and Tonny could see his figure standing outside the motel window.

Tonny rubbed his face and placed Aksel on the floor next to the bed so his hands were unencumbered. He took a deep breath and unlocked the door. He slowly opened it, peering out into the daylight at the three figures standing outside.

“Umm, okay. I … please, do not ... I just …” Tonny stopped attempting to speak, covered his mouth, and tearfully motioned for the figures to enter, so they did – slowly and hesitantly.

 _“Hi there, little angel!”_ whispered the woman. She slowly approached Aksel and picked him up off the floor, settling the moaning baby on her shoulder. She rubbed his back and shushed him comfortingly as she rocked.

“My name is Maria,” she said softly, turning to Tonny, “and this is Liam and Jacob. We all work for a homeless shelter about an hour north of here.” 

Tonny quickly shook his head. None of this made any sense.

“Can I ask your name?” Maria seemed nice enough but Tonny was suspicious of these crazy fucking Americans. The last one to speak to him kicked him in the fucking teeth. So many pretended to be pleasant right before then turned ugly. Now that this woman held Aksel he felt even more anxious and he slowly inched himself between her and the door. The two men, noticing his nervous behavior, casually stepped into a less offensive formation by the window beside the bed.

“Tonny,” he answered. “Aksel,” he said nodding towards the baby in Maria’s arms. He continued eyeing down the two other men in the motel room. “He is hungry, and I ...” He tried to admit that he had no milk for the boy but his voice gave out in a pained crack.

“And you are too, I bet. And you’re hurt. Can we patch you up and get you guys a bite to eat?” asked Maria in a sweet and comforting voice. Tonny felt that she was being sincere, but he was hesitant to acquire debts.

“I, uh ... no money,” Tonny confessed, shaking his head and waving his hands to indicate having nothing.

“That’s ok, Tonny, we just want to help you two, ok?” said Maria calmly. Tonny nodded at this and agreed to let them clean the cuts on his face. Jacob left the room only to come back a few minutes later with a basic first aid kit for Liam to clean the cuts. With a quick visual examination of Aksel, Jacob explained that he would be back soon and the man headed out of the motel room to a supermarket up the street. Tonny watched him leave and with only one adult male now in the room, relaxed and slowly positioned himself on the edge of the bed so Liam could tend to his sore and still-bleeding injuries.

“Do you think you’d like to talk now? Maybe about what happened to your face? Or how about when you got to the US?” Maria asked him.

“We allowed to be here, please …” begged Tonny, pleading with his eyes in an attempt to hold still for the man cleaning his bloody eye.

“Oh, no, no, no, that’s fine. I’m not going to send you anywhere. I just want to talk, ok?” Maria seemed genuinely sorry that she gave Tonny the wrong impression so he attempted to relax.

“We come from Germany. Two months ago,” lied Tonny. “And a man was at door and hit me.”

“Did your attacker take anything?” she asked. Tonny reached down, feeling his pockets and winced when he realized they had taken all his belongings – even the wallet he’d lifted the night before.

“I don’t know,” he lied again, but he couldn’t hide his cringing face, realizing he now literally had nothing but a baby to take care of.

“Ok ... good,” said Liam, hesitating as he sensed Tonny’s painful discovery. Jacob returned shortly after they had finished taping Tonny’s eyebrow and nose, with a bag full of various types of formula, bottles, food, and a brown sack of fast food for Tonny.

He quickly prepared a bottle for the baby who was now painfully sobbing on Maria's shoulder. Tonny quietly whimpered and stared at the floor in sorrow, unwilling to look at the starving baby. Maria offered to give Aksel back to Tonny as Jacob approached her with the bottle, but he shook his head. He had no reason to want Aksel associating him with food. Maria sadly smiled at the baby lapping so pathetically at the bottle while Tonny nervously rubbed his clenched jaw, disgusted with himself.

“Here, man,” said Jacob, handing Tonny the brown bag of food. A lump swelled in his throat. Why were these people being nice to him? 

 _“Tak,”_ he said, thanking the man, and he sat on the edge of the bed, holding the bag. He was still in a stupor. “I am …” he began, trying to find the right words in English, “Sorry. No. Sad you give to me with no money.”

“It’s ok, man. We just want to help,” said Jacob, sitting on the bed next to Tonny.

 _Ashamed_ was the word Tonny had been searching for. He hated this feeling of humiliation that was a constant reminder of how useless he really was as a man and now as a father. He desperately hated failing Aksel at every turn and wished he could at least give the child a steady supply of food, let alone a safe place to sleep at night.

As if reading his thoughts, Maria began explaining the services her shelter offers and carefully pulled out her card to give to Tonny. “If you want to come now, we would me more than willing to help you do that,” she said, her voice tinged with hope. “We have emergency shelters you can stay in, hot showers, clean clothes, food, medical services, whatever you need.” She looked at Tonny, watching his leg bouncing and twitching nervously as she spoke. “We even offer drug counseling if needed,” she explained.

Tonny watched her looking at his knee but couldn’t stop the twitch. “I am not high now,” he anxiously assured, shaking his head. He didn't know what else to say. “I am okay now. No cocaine. No dope. Okay?” He scratched his head and glanced at the floor, avoiding her eyes.

“Ok, Tonny, but are you sure? You can bring Aksel and spend the night there if you would like. We have the resources to place you two in a home and can help you locate a job.”

“No, no, I pay for one more night and then we leave,” Tonny lied, again. “We are okay. The fight – it not good – but we okay now,” he assured. As much as he wanted to go, he was still skeptical of the laundry list of aid these people were offering. It was almost _suspiciously_ helpful, and being terrified of losing Aksel, he felt compelled to deny any additional support from these strangers.

Maria thanked Tonny for allowing them to help him, even if it was just with a little food and medical attention. She handed Aksel back to his father, sadly kissing the baby on his forehead, and hugged Tonny before she, Liam, and Jacob parted ways.

After closing the door behind them, Tonny sat back down on the bed, rocking Aksel gently in his arms. He looked up at the bag of food and baby items the three had left behind on the nightstand. He laid the full and contented baby down on the bed and peered into the bag. In addition to their grocery store purchases, Tonny found an envelope. He carefully opened it, trying not to disturb Aksel asleep beside him.

In the envelope was a note that read: _Take care of the kid, ok? And please come see us. -Jacob_.

Attached to the note were three $100 bills. Tonny was so elated that he choked up once more, painfully suppressing wails of grief-stricken relief.


	4. Within the City Walls

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title of this chapter is "I’m taking a permanent break,” but for some reason, AO3 wants to occasionally make it my old ch. 1 title. No idea why, but I thought I'd let you know in case it was confusing.

“My mind’s made up,” said Will, huffing at Hannibal’s tone. He crossed his arms tightly over his chest and pushed himself back in the leather chair in Dr. Lecter's office in Baltimore. Will could feel sweat beading at his temple and neck and sneered as he noticed Hannibal’s eyes dart around his dampening face. Though he tried, he couldn’t will his body to not betray his internal turmoil. “What more do you want me to say? I’m done, Doctor.”

“Nothing more, Will – not when you feel so attacked,” said Hannibal, sliding back in his chair. He studied Will’s defensive posture and watched him casually pretend to scratch his face, though he was wiping sweat from his brow. “I only want you to say whatever you feel you need to.”

“I know everyone thinks I’m crazy for doing this, but it’s what I _want,”_ continued Will, still feeling very much attacked by the world at large. He glanced around the room, fully aware that much of his defensiveness stemmed from his own insecurities about the move. He wasn’t a fan of change, in fact, he loathed it. Boxing up his meager belongings had become a painstaking ordeal. He just bought a truck, but he owned a farm now, so he needed one, right? Signing deeds and forking over huge amounts of cash were also mind-numbingly troublesome. But this is what he wanted – no, _needed._ It was a requirement, so he had to do it. He bit his lip as he dizzied, wondering if he was falling from his chair or simply having a mental breakdown. He glanced down at his feet still firmly planted on the floor – he wasn’t falling. He looked back up to Hannibal who furrowed his brows at him. “I’m not breaking,” he unintentionally whispered aloud.

“Excuse me?” wondered Hannibal, cocking his head.

“Hmm? What? Nothing. I’m fine. I didn’t say anything.” He cleared his throat and scratched his head, forcing out the fog building in his mind as he stared at the paisley pattern on Hannibal’s blood red tie. _That’s an ugly tie – uglier than last week._

Hannibal continued to stare at him, assessing his rapidly diminishing composure and attempted to continue their conversation. “Will, no one can argue with you. This is _your_ life. I think your friends just feel excluded. Rather than asking for help you appear to be running away. Are you running away, Will, or simply taking a break?”

Will swallowed hard and adjusted his glasses. “I’m taking a _permanent_ break,” he stated flatly.

Hannibal nodded with understanding, and leaned forward, letting out a heavy sigh. “Will you at least continue our sessions?” he asked, hiding the faint tinge of hope that pervaded his voice.

Will had no intention of ending their weekly sessions, even with the three-hour round-trip drive. He was gaining more personal insight from these meetings with Hannibal than he had ever gained from other, even more rigorous, psychiatrists that he had been forced to endure in the past. However, he didn’t think it was in the best interest of their professional relationship to seem so eager to maintain contact despite his move. He deliberately hesitated, pretending to mull over his decision. “I think continuing would prove beneficial,” he admitted.

Hannibal smiled and reclined back into his chair. “That is very good to hear, Will. I look forward to it.”


	5. No Damned Grudges

_Purcellville, Virginia_ , the sign read. _Established 1908_.

Tonny adjusted his backpack, attempting to avoid waking Aksel who was still nestled in his arms. The bus loudly hissed behind him, sending a shudder down his spine. Flipping his hood up with his free hand, he headed down the sidewalk still glancing over his shoulder like the criminal he very much was. He didn’t have a plan other than to continue walking, so that was what he was inevitably forced to do. They had been traveling for three weeks since his attack in front of their motel room and though his face was healed, he and the baby were just as weary now as they had ever been.

About a half mile down the road was a gas station and Tonny made his way across the busy intersection to resupply on food and cigarettes. Once he reached the store, he grabbed only the essentials: candy bars, a pack of diapers, lighters, and a half-gallon of milk before heading to the counter for cigarettes.

“Where’re you from?” questioned the cashier eyeing him and the baby while slowly and deliberately counting out his change.

“Not here,” he responded curtly, before snatching the yellow plastic bag from the clerk’s hand and heading out the door. His gut was in knots and he silently cursed himself under his breath for sticking out so badly here. Keeping his hood up made him look like a deplorable degenerate. Leaving it down invoked gawking from strangers at the tattoos inked across the back of his head.

The pair returned to the road, still drained and weakened. In the rainy distance, there were several traffic lights, neon signs, and medians dividing a larger four-lane road. He followed along the shoulder, singing softly under his breath to his son who had been jolted awake by the grinding of the trucks rushing past. The misty rain fell softly on the baby’s face and gathered in droplets in his eyebrows and lashes. Tonny tried to keep the baby's face dry, but no matter what he did, the boy still appeared tear-streaked and pathetic. Just across the road, was a strip mall with a greasy motel at the other end of the parking lot. Relief filled his chest as he sprinted across the busy roadway to their next respite.

The stale-aired motel room was at least dry, unlike the pair. Tonny stripped Aksel and tossed the baby’s clothes onto the floor of the tub. He had a ritual now. He had to reset them both with somewhat clean clothes, somewhat full bellies, and a half-decent night on a real bed. Every few days this became his new goal.

From his backpack, he pulled out a bottle and filled it with the cold milk from the gas station. He tossed a blanket and two pillows on the floor and laid his son between them, handing him the bottle. Without a sound, the baby latched onto the bottle, gripping it between his tiny hands. Tonny propped up the bottle and stood, peering down at the helpless infant chugging and grunting on the floor like an animal. As guilt-stricken as he felt, this was good. This was safe for now. He swallowed back the crushing fear that perpetually threatened to leave him a sniveling heap on the dingy motel carpet. This was good for now.

He backed up into the bathroom, his eyes not wanting to leave the quivering bundle on the floor and erratically stripped, tossing his filthy clothes in the tub. The mirror painted a disturbing portrait of him, a sunken face that was pale and bruised. He was so hungry. His once-shaved head, sported short dirty-brown hair as it grew back slowly over time. His stubble was patchy and uneven, making him appear much older than twenty-four. He traced his cracked lips with his tongue and began wondering just why he ever left Denmark in the first place. The soft whimpering in the other room reminded him, and he forcefully rubbed away budding tears with his palms.

It had been days since he’d had a hot shower. In an attempt to save his meager funds, they were foregoing motel rooms, but the days were getting colder as November loomed near. He had no idea what the climate was like here in the States, and though it wasn’t as cold as in Denmark, he didn’t have easily accessible shelter and had only a very limited amount of clothing. They’d slept in unlocked cars, public buildings, and anywhere with an overhang to keep them dry. It was miserable and unfit for an infant. _He_ was unfit for an infant, and he had obsessed over that thought each and every day. Tonny kept them moving despite not knowing why. No one was looking for him here and he needed money, permanent shelter, and a food supply. With no skills, no friends, and no idea how this country worked, he shoplifted, pick-pocketed, and trespassed as needed. He briefly thought of the three kind strangers that had helped him in the first few days he had been in this country. It had been weeks since he saw them and he now regretted every second since then that he didn’t agree to go with them.

The shower water felt like a thousand needles piercing his freezing skin as he quickly and painfully scrubbed himself clean. His ribs now protruded from his gut and his muscles were diminishing into nothing. As the water blistered his back, he frantically scoured the baby's clothes, rinsing out the dingy, gray water that dripped trough his fingers. You were supposed to keep babies clean. They were supposed to be fed and warm and clean. How did people keep it up? He couldn't do any of this. 

The bathroom had no towels, so Tonny air-dried his starving, naked body sitting on the edge of the bed staring at Aksel. The baby was fast asleep in his make-shift nest on the floor. Tonny laid back on the bed, exhausted. He should eat something or maybe just sleep. Deciding to eat, he reached for the yellow bag from the gas station and quietly fished around for a candy bar and took it to the bathroom to unwrap it, grabbing the milk he’d left on the nightstand on the way. It was colder outside than in, so he left the milk perched on the ledge just outside his bathroom window and hastily ate, washing down the candy with tap water. This was not the life he wanted for this child but Tonny had a long history of making poorly planned decisions and this trip was a shining example of just how ingrained his incompetence truly was.

Sneaking past the baby, he settled on the bed wondering if the old lady that checked him in kept any cash behind the desk. There were a few cars in the lot so he changed into his only set of spare clothes and patiently waited until the middle of the night to pick through any open cars. This was also their ritual, pilfering what they could to stay alive. 

By the time he got back to his room, Aksel was wailing. Tonny tossed his findings next to the door and scooped up the child to hold him close, shushing his cries and wrapping him in the blanket from the pile on the floor. By now, Aksel was relatively used to their new habits. He was used to the foreign lights, cold milk, and rough blankets, but also the smell of his father, that acrid mix of cigarettes and sweat. It was the only comfort Tonny could offer his son, so he held him in his arms and leaned back on the bed, falling into restless and troubled sleep.


	6. Set Fire on Barns

“So, this is it!” Will was smiling with outstretched arms, standing on his new front porch. “What do you think?” he asked of his audience. Jack, Alana, and Hannibal all stood in the front yard glancing somewhat horrified at the state of Will's new farm. The man was finally happy though, and they all had to admit that. Will exuded excitement by his new home. He had worked diligently for the last several weeks, moving his projects and belongings from Wolf Trap to his new – more spacious – home, refusing to ask for anyone's help, though they had all offered their assistance. 

Will now had garages and barns to fill with dismantled boats, sheets of plywood, and wooden planks. He had a partially completed wooden canoe taking up most of an entire garage, the floor of which was covered in an inch of sawdust. Old equipment had been removed from outbuildings and lined up along the outside walls so there was more space inside to store boxes, books, and even more tools that he had borrowed from neighbors. And then there were the dogs. Will had brought with him, of course, his small pack of rescue dogs that seemed to have grown quite large since the move. All manners of canines roamed and barked, fought and growled, and tore up the lawns surrounding the house.

“It’s a lovely piece of property, Will,” admitted Alana, glancing anxiously around the mess. She cringed at a small pack of labrador-sized dogs fighting by the barn. “How much land did you say you have?"

“Forty acres,” he replied and he smiled, delighted by the quantity of solitude it would afford him. He couldn’t contain his happiness at the thought of how much physical land there was to be explored. He knew most were fields, but the property included ten acres of woodlands, a pond, and a stream perfect for fly fishing. He was just giddy to be away from the world and his mind was clearing and relaxing at a rate he hadn’t felt in a decade.

“It’s a train wreck, Will,” declared Jack and Will's happy little bubble suddenly burst. Hannibal couldn’t help but snicker at Jack's total lack of sensitivity. Jack held up his arm to block a disgusted smack from Alana. "What?! He’s a grown ass man. Tell him the damn truth! Will, I fear for your life,” he proclaimed.

Will immediately frowned, completely baffled as to what Jack could possibly mean. His farm was a goddamn paradise! He was frankly insulted by his dismissive tone. He looked around attempting to see whatever it was his friends saw. _Paradise, damn it. It's everything I've ever wanted!_

“Don't be so cruel, Jack” scowled Alana. “Will, this is all great – really – but have you ever done something like this before?”

Her wide eyes and pleading smile made Will wrinkle his forehead, assessing the motive to her question. Why had she asked it like that? He crossed his arms, rapidly growing upset by his friends' lack of support. “No, and what’s wrong with what I’m doing?” he snapped. He needed the support of his friends, especially now. He'd just uprooted his whole goddamn life. They least they could do is _not_ call it a train wreck. A pack of dogs suddenly raced between them all, nearly knocking a stumbling Jack to the ground. Will grimaced and raised his hand apologetically, nodding to a scowling Jack.

Hannibal finally piped up, sensing the growing animosity blooming between them all. “I think what Jack and Alana are trying to say is that you seem to be a little overwhelmed. There are a _lot_ of animals to take care of here, Will. Exactly how many dogs do you have?”

“Forty-one,” stated Will, somewhat proudly, and Alana unintentionally gasped, covering her mouth in an attempt to stifle a laugh at Jack's shaking head.

Hannibal raised his eyebrows, grinning at Will’s obvious satisfaction before continuing, “That’s a decent number of dogs, Will. How many other animals do you have here?”

“Well, there are the chickens," he began, scratching his head as he thought, "but I have no idea how many there are. And horses, but they aren’t my responsibility ... I have a girl that takes care of them – and none of them are actually _mine._ I rent the stable ..." He glanced between the three slack faces of his friends. They were all unimpressed. "And I have the two cows. The, uh, rest are my neighbor’s. And I mean there are the cats, but every farm has cats ...” His voice trailed off as he realized his ramblings were falling on deaf or disgusted ears.

“And the goats?” asked Hannibal, pointing to a goat by the side of the porch.

Will followed his finger to peer around the side of the house at the goat tearing apart a flowering bush planted under a window. “Oh right," he said, returning to his audience, "but again – not mine. You know I lease a lot of the fields. So I mean, it’s not _that_ much.” Will looked around nodding. He could do this. It wasn't that much, really.

Will watched Jack peer over at Alana whose eyes refused to meet his. “And yeah, I mean it’s sort of, uh, messy,” admitted Will, rubbing his forehead. The giant pile of metal rubble making it impossible to properly use the garage was not helping his case. “And it is ... a _lot_ of work. I don’t really have much personal time  ... but I mean, it’s not as stressful as the FBI,” he snapped, narrowing his eyes at Jack. "And I haven't killed anyone," he muttered under his breath.

“Are you sure? You look pretty stressed to me,” scoffed Jack, alluding to the fact that Will looked a disheveled mess. His unkempt dark brown hair flipped around in the gentle breeze which also flapped his tattered flannel shirt that was barely tucked into his pants. His rubber boots were caked with mud that extended up to the thighs of his jeans. His hands were black with engine grease, even though he'd recently scrubbed them. His glasses, slightly crooked on his face, did seem unusually clean despite the rest of his appearance.

“Well, I’m not losing my mind, Jack,” he snapped and Jack rolled his eyes at him. “And there's lots of fresh air, and I can go fish whenever I want. It’s nice.”

“It is nice, Will, and I think it's good for you,” said Hannibal, nodding.

“See?” said Will, pointing at Hannibal. At least someone was defending him.

Hannibal raised his hand. “Let me finish,” he said and Will immediately frowned. “I think we’d all sleep better if you had some help. Maybe a hand to take care of some of this so you can focus on the activities that brought you out here.”

Will deliberated over Hannibal's suggestion, though his immediate response was to scoff and ignore this ridiculous notion that he needed to ask for or hire more help. But the fact was that despite his attempts to stay above water, the last few weeks had felt an awful lot like he was drowning – drowning in work, dirt, sawdust, and various types of animal shit. He liked physical labor, it cleared his mind, but it was daunting to wake up every morning with no end in sight. He had no weekend breaks, no afternoons without classes, no holidays or sick days to call in. It was a lot of work, but his muscles were being used and his mind was being rejuvenated. But ... he was exhausted every night. He fell into his bed stressing over what he had done each day, and none of his accomplishments had been particularly satisfying, other than to play with and be around his pets. Some help around the farm might possibly be useful.

After much internal debate, he finally conceded, rubbing his scruffy beard and contemplating the logistics of hiring someone else. “I _would_ like to finish the canoe before it gets too cold to work in in the garage,” he said to himself, “and that’s probably not going to happen at this rate.” He sighed with contempt. His entire plan to be and _stay_ alone was failing miserably. “I just like the solitude,” he confessed. He was enjoying the isolation more than anything else and bringing another person here didn’t really mesh with his desire to de-stress on his own terms. People meant talking and socializing, and they oftentimes ended up forcing upon him more obligations than he was comfortable with.  

Alana smiled at him, attempting to remain positive. “I’m sure you will find someone great – maybe someone with experience who can teach you a thing or two?” 

"Just go hire a kid, Will," said Jack, "Strong back and they'll practically work for nothing." He snickered as Will cocked his head, debating his options.

Will eventually nodded, an unintentional grimace erupting across his face. “I guess that's not a bad idea,” he said. "And what's the worst that could happen?"


	7. Secure from Worldly Chances

When Tonny awoke, daylight was peeking through the heavy motel drapes. At his side still slept Aksel, warm and safe, draped across his arm.  He quietly rose to begin his morning ritual. Despite having no income, he still had the responsibilities of a father to provide something for his tiny stolen family.

His backpack and the bag of stolen goods were still piled by the door so he carefully scooped them up and carried them into the bathroom to sift through. Seated on the edge of the tub, he fumbled through the grocery bag, inspecting the half dozen random items he’d stolen – an old iPod, a pair of sunglasses that he hung on his shirt, a few crumpled dollar bills, loose change, and a couple outdated GPSs.

He opened his backpack and tossed in the items of value; the cash he pocketed. When he pulled out his wad of small bills, Maria’s card fell to the floor. He picked it up, trying to read it,  _Maria Caballaro,_ it read, and then something about homelessness and an address _._ He was fairly certain that he remembered that city or something similar on the town sign when he first got to this place.

He left the bathroom and gently opened the drawer of the lacquered nightstand by the bed. Sure enough, there was a bible and a phone book tucked in the back. At least cheap American hotels were predictable. He pulled out the phone book and slowly found the general location of the shelter on the map on the second page. Tearing the map out and shoving it in his pocket, he consciously decided that he finally had a _plan_ and it filled him with a new sense of hope _._

Once Aksel awoke, Tonny cleaned and changed him and fed him the last of the milk stashed outside. He packed up their meager belongings and hit the road in the hopes of finally having a decent and safe place to sleep that night – a place with real food for their aching stomachs. While Tonny was still ashamed to admit that he needed this much help, he was finally realizing that he was always going to be a failure, so forcing Aksel to suffer along with him was just shameful if not abusive. If he had any pride left, he was willing to sacrifice it to keep them both warm. It was the least a fuck-up like him could do.

* * *

It took three hours to find the shelter, having gotten lost more than a few times. When they finally arrived, Tonny opened the front door of the large, brick building and pulled up his sunglasses as he entered. There were two rows of chairs set up much like a dentist's office and a few people sitting and talking with one another. It looked like a clinic – a place you'd go to admit that it burns when you pee or that you don't remember if you used a condom or not. Someone had attempted to make the dreary walls brighter by taping cheerful posters over the chairs. "Even your worst day only has 24 hours!" read one poster. Its words were superimposed on a pastel Ferris wheel. Just underneath it was a handwritten schedule of when the local AA group meets.

An astounded voice hollered, “Oh my god!” gushing with excitement and Tonny spun around to look. It was Jacob, apparently pleased, or possibly just shocked, to see him. Tonny nervously smiled at him and Jacob’s eyes widened as he walked up to Tonny and clumsily attempted to hug him over Aksel. “You made it! I knew you'd come and see us!”

Tonny wasn’t entirely sure what he meant by any of that but didn’t bother questioning it. “Um, we come,” he said. “Jacob, yes?” 

“Jacob yes!” the man repeated back, beaming. “Awesome! Oh man, Maria’s gonna flip out over seeing you. She’s talked about you every damn day for weeks. We went back to your room the next day, but you were already gone.” Still grinning, Jacob waved for Tonny to follow him down a hallway to the back of the building where he rapped on a door before opening it. “Maria, you're not gonna believe this,” he said as they entered.

Maria cheered and covered her mouth. “Tonny and baby Aksel! Oh my goodness! How are you guys doing?” She was giddy with excitement and jumped up to give them both hugs. Tonny was completely taken aback by this friendly gesture and found himself sneering incredulously at this couple who, for some unknown and probably ridiculous reason, seemed to actually care about him and Aksel’s well-being. _These people are fucked-up. I hate Americans. What the hell’s wrong with them. They don’t fucking know me._

He suddenly realized Maria had asked him a question and he cocked his head trying to remember the words.

She slowed her voice and repeated, “How are you guys doing?”

“Shitty,” he said, honestly answering her question. Dignity would have to be damned. There was no time for self-respect when one’s starving.

“Oh man, I’m sorry,” said Jacob, shaking his head. He clapped a hand on Tonny’s back in solidarity, gripping his shoulder. Tonny grimaced, somewhat flinching at the contact. These people were still strangers and he wasn't excited to find out what he would have to do to earn some food and a bed here. He grit his teeth but said nothing, working his shoulder out from under Jacob’s grasp and taking a step back towards the door.

Maria furrowed her brows at his somewhat edgy behavior. She approached him, playing with Aksel's tiny fingers. “Can we help you guys?” she asked, grinning at him as though he had a choice at this point.

“Yes,” he said, finally nodding and admitting defeat.

“Excellent! May I?” she asked, nodding to Aksel. Tonny agreed and dropped him in her arms. She rocked him, warming his tiny cold hands in her own.

Aksel and Tonny both received a basic health check-up that basically revealed exactly what Tonny had imagined it would: they were both starving. Aksel was underweight so the staff talked to Tonny about needing to feed him proper baby formula and not just cold cow’s milk. Tonny tried not to scoff at this advice as though he had the option to pay the unrealistic prices for powdered formula. He barely had enough cash for plain milk and a warm room for them to sleep in. _Fuck you guys and your fucking formula._

The staff worked with them both to find a few pairs of new clothes for each of them and Tonny was forced into a meeting about addiction recovery after his admission to using weeks before. He felt incredibly out of place looking around the room at all of these people dying of one vice or another. His cravings hadn’t diminished over the months and if given the opportunity, he knew he’d happily travel down that road again. Aksel was the only thing keeping him even remotely sober. Well, Aksel and his incredibly limited funds.

The pair was able to stay in the emergency shelter until proper housing for a single parent could be located. Until then, Aksel was gushed over by the staff. He never left the arms of a warm body. Everyone adored him and Tonny was happy to finally see him cooing and smiling, the glazed look in both their eyes slowly diminishing.

* * *

It had been over two weeks since they had wandered into this overly friendly shelter, and Tonny was beginning to get excruciatingly restless. He was grateful to have Aksel gaining weight and the stability of even a temporary room, but the odd jobs he was given to keep him busy made him feel anxious about the future. He hated having to deal with bosses that treated him like shit, expecting him to be grateful for the opportunity to be spit at and taken advantage of. If he wanted that kind of job, he’d find a dealer to work for. Hell, at least he was good at that.

He was sitting in the waiting area with Aksel when he overheard Maria talking to Shelly, a chubby older woman who never left the front desk. Her days were spent answering phones and filing the occupant's paperwork.

“Mr. Penderson, you remember him?” she asked Maria.

Maria looked up from a paper, her mouth dropping open. “I know! I heard about that – poor guy.” She frowned and shook her head before noticing Tonny looking towards them. “He’s a friend,” she explained to him. “Used to come here a lot. He’s got lung cancer now. Had to go into hospice care.” Maria scowled, genuinely distraught over the future of this random man.

“Well Bob has that dog – the black one,” the receptionist continued. “He just called. He’s bringing him here. God knows why ...” She huffed a disgusted sigh, continuing to clack away at her keyboard.

“Oh no, that’s ok. Will comes here now. We just have to call him,” said Maria, and she looked back at Tonny again to explain. “When families lose their homes or homeless folks can’t take care of their pets – and some are _very_ attached to them – they get scared about sending them to shelters. I don’t blame them either, so many around here are _kill shelters,_ ” she said, whispering _kill shelters,_ though the room was empty save the four of them. “But there's this man – lives in an old farmhouse toward Round Hill – he takes in all these dogs. He's a real nice guy, I mean ... a bit odd, not all there upstairs, I think,” she said grimacing and tapping her head, “And he’s shaggy lookin’ like he needs to get a good night's sleep ... but I mean he’s got something like sixty dogs,” she chuckled, shaking her head. “He’s sweet though. I think he’s a teacher.” She glanced at Shelly for confirmation.

“Doesn’t he work in D.C.?”

“Something like that," said Maria, "When was Bob dropping off the dog?”

“Any time now,” said Shelly, “he’s got _‘a date with the blonde bombshell at the bank’_ as he said.” She rolled her eyes and smiled at Tonny who was both intrigued and a little puzzled by all of this. “So I should just call Will then?"

Maria nodded to Shelly, smiling, and walked over to pinch Aksel’s cheek before heading back to her office in the back.

Tonny leaned back in his chair, bouncing Aksel, now waiting for this mystery dog since they had nothing more pressing to attend to. Life was so goddamn slow here; nothing ever happened. The streets were never busy and the people were fat and slow … He’d never left Denmark before and he was under the impression that The States was a mecca of activity and excitement. He wanted to watch someone get shot, or try meth, or just see someone walking down the sidewalk with an AK-47. He wanted to see _America._ He wanted a bag of french fries and a two-liter of coke and some American pussy, but he had nothing but a damn baby. He looked down at Aksel who’s mouth bubbled as he cooed. _This is fucking shit_ , he thought, and back out the window went his gaze.

Fifteen minutes later, after the accountant had just whisked away Aksel to see the resident cat in her office, a fat, balding man stumbled in the door with a black lab. “Shelly,” he wheezed, out of breath from the trek up to the door. “Take ‘em, take ‘em,” he commanded, holding out the leash. Shelly rushed over and took the dog. “I’m late, Shel. You be good, Frankie,” he said, scolding the dog and turning around. He glanced at Tonny and grimaced, shaking his head at him, before heading out the door.

Tonny watched him leave through the window. _What a fuckin’ dick._ His internal berating of the stranger ceased when he heard Shelly huff in exasperation. “What am I supposed to do with him,” she said out loud, struggling to control the lab who was trying to bolt out the cracked door.

He stood up and approached the dumbfounded woman, seeing an opportunity to have something to fucking do now. “I’ll take it,” he said, holding out his hand.

“Oh my god, thank you. I really didn’t want to deal with him behind my desk,” she laughed. “He’s nosey!” She chuckled to herself as she handed Tonny the lead

He returned to his chair, practically dragging the dog away from the door. He flopped down in his seat and stared at him. “Frankie, huh?” he said, tousling his black fur. “I knew a Frank. He gave me scars with baseball bat,” he confided to the dog. “In hospital for weeks.” Shelly looked up, quizzically raising her eyebrows having heard what he said. Tonny pretended not to notice and continued petting Frankie, occasionally glancing out the window for the arrival of their next thing to do.

Almost an hour later, a rusty pick-up truck pulled up and parked outside the building. Tonny sat up in his chair and leaned towards the window to see who’d get out. A scruffy looking dark haired man with glasses hopped out of the truck. He stood for a moment by his truck door, scratching his bearded chin. He took a step towards the shelter but stopped and returned to the truck, hopping back inside.

Tonny sat back in his seat again. _False alarm._ Frankie whined and complained still begging to go outside. Should he take the damn thing for a walk? He glanced back out the window, picking out a car to let the dog piss on. There was a Beemer out there. That would do.

Suddenly, the shelter door ripped open and the scruffy man entered, scanning the waiting room. “I’m here for Frankie,” he gruffly mumbled to Shelly before noticing the dog in the corner. He looked over and beamed at the dog, heading towards him before he stopped dead and stared directly at Tonny who glanced behind him not realizing where the man’s gaze had fallen.

“Wow, you look ...” He paused as he stared at Tonny, his face twisted with confusion. “Like a young pissed-off version of my psychiatrist.” He chuckled briefly and shook off the strange unsettling feeling that suddenly washed over him, and he automatically held out his hand. “My name is Will, uh, Graham. Will Graham,” he said, faltering over his words. He felt his face turn red as he internally chastised himself.

Tonny stood and shook his hand. “Pissed off what?" He nervously huffed, unsure what he was supposed to say to this bizarre American.

"Um, psychiatrist," he repeated, noting Tonny’s foreign accent. "A doctor ... for, uh, for your head. For mental ... issues." Will furrowed his brow at his own clarification. He sounded like a crazy person admitting to being a crazy person. He quickly continued, “Where are you from?” He was even more intrigued by this young version of his doctor because he had a strikingly similar tone to his voice.

“Germany,” said Tonny, wondering if anyone in America could tell the difference between a German and a Dane. _Probably not ..._

“Oh, uh, neat. Well he’s Lithuanian,” shared Will for absolutely no reason. Tonny just nodded and handed him the leash. “Oh right, yeah, Frankie. You’ve had quite an adventure, eh, boy?” said Will, kneeling to pet the dog. “Are you, um, living here?” he casually asked Tonny peeking back up at him.

“Yes. I have a son – a baby. I look for work and house. Takes time they keep saying to me,” explained Tonny, glancing around the office. This exchange was making him increasingly uncomfortable but he wasn’t sure why. He felt like this strange man’s inability to look him in the eye made him seem fearful or perhaps even disturbed, and he’d already basically admitted to being a crazy person – he saw a head doctor for fuck’s sake.

“Work, huh? You good with your hands?” Will asked, still focused on Frankie. Tonny didn’t understand what Will had meant, so he held up his hands to show him. “Uh, no, like manual labor – farm work – I need a farm hand, someone to help me manage my land and animals … because apparently I am a terrible farmer and my friends think I’m going to kill myself,” he rattled, chuckled to himself.

“Ah, ok.” Tonny was still very confused but it seemed like the man may be offering him a job. “Umm, I can learn?” He wasn’t sure if this was true or not. He had lived his entire life in Copenhagen and had never been anywhere near a farm, but he really wanted to get him and Aksel out of the shelter and since he had lied so much already, what would it matter?

“I have a spare bedroom if you want a room too. I mean you’d have to share the house with me, but it’s a big house,” said Will, a little confused by his own forwardness with this total stranger. He took a deep breath and refocused himself on Frankie’s fur. _What the hell are you doing?_

“I have a son though – a baby,” reminded Tonny, certain that no one in their right mind would put up with him and a screaming infant invading their home.

Will clenched his jaw and nodded. “Yeah, you’d probably have to bring him too,” he said, still refusing to make eye contact and still incredibly nervous about what his mouth was saying.

“Um, ok.” Tonny nervously chuckled. _He's not in his right mind then,_ he thought. He couldn’t quite place this feeling he was having. Will seemed nice but he was also oddly disconcerting, like a free wad of cash handed to you on the street. Will made Tonny feel very nervous and as he watched Will stand, anxiously shifting his weight and still avoiding his eyes, Tonny grew more and more certain that this man was definitely a serial killer.

“Who’s your caseworker?” Will asked, before drawing his conclusion. “Maria, I bet.” Tonny nodded in reply. “Hold on a sec,” he said, handing the lead back to Tonny. He headed down the hall and returned with Maria who was as bubbly as she was an hour ago.

“Wow,” she proclaimed. “Housing and a job offer in one go, how awesome is that!” Maria’s positivity was infectious and both Will and Tonny were nervously grinning at her exuberance. She hugged Tonny and then turned to Will, wrapping her arms around him, patting him on the back. Will glanced at Tonny with a horrified grimace. Tonny smirked at him as it all felt odd like she was congratulating a pair of newlyweds and he could see across Will’s face how uncomfortable her touch was to him. Tonny felt bizarrely comforted by this awkward man’s ineptitude around people. He chuckled again, watching Will attempt to tactfully pry Maria off himself as she continued to speak to Tonny, “Will gave me all the information. Working on a farm! Sounds so nice! I wish we could get more fresh air in here,” she said, looking around the rather abysmal office. “We can fill everything out now and Jacob can drop you and Aksel off after we get him a car seat. Sound ok, Tonny?” Tonny nodded again, still baffled by her excitement. “Will – five minutes and you’ll be all set, follow me,” she directed, turning back down the hall.

Tonny tossed the leash back to Will who held out his hand to shake it before he followed Maria down the hall. Tonny grasped it, still smirking at him.

“Tonny,” said Will, realizing he had never actually asked him his name. He smiled back at Tonny's bizarre smirk.

“Yes, Will,” he confirmed, and Will shuddered with a distinct feeling that he'd met this man before.


	8. Rest You Here

It was late in the afternoon when the small green sedan pulled up and stopped in front of a large farmhouse with a wrap-around front porch teeming with dogs. Tonny slowly opened his door and stepped out, staring at the house just up the hill. His eyes widened and he cringed at the massive pile of dogs that all stood up to greet them as he and Jacob exited the car. What the fuck was with all the dogs? Jacob popped the trunk, unloading Tonny’s backpack and a brand new car seat still in its box. He was still smiling as though this was a totally natural and normal thing to be doing. The man's unusually calm and collected demeanor was not shared by Tonny. He had been excited to get away from the shelter, but the longer it sat in his mind, the more perturbed he became at the prospect of sharing a house with the man he'd met earlier in the day. Wasn't all this a little fast?

Throwing his backpack over his shoulder, Tonny quickly gathered Aksel from the back seat and slowly followed Jacob up to the house. He wasn’t scared, but the menacing look of twenty or so dogs staring down at them was just that, _menacing._

Jacob hobbled up the porch steps, still carrying the bulky car seat with the father and son following close behind. Tonny's mind raced with a myriad of concerns over this new arrangement. _Is this really a good idea? I don't even know this guy? Anyone who has this many dogs has to be a goddamn lunatic. Didn't he say he saw a head doctor? How fucked up is he?_

The dogs were becoming restless as they approached the porch, barking and whining until Will opened the door and stepped out. He hissed at the dogs, tousling fur and gently pushing a few away from the door with his knee. Among them, Tonny recognized Frankie and the dog rushed up to him, licking and pawing at the baby bundled in his arms. “Welcome, welcome,” said Will, taking the car seat from Jacob and motioning for them to come in.

“Thank you,” said Jacob, pulling on a slightly reluctant Tonny to come inside. “Can I see the room you’re renting, Will? Just a formality, then I’ll be out of your hair.”

“Yeah, come on in,” said Will, holding open the creaky screen door.

The three men stepped inside and Tonny was shocked to discover more dogs covered the floor of the living room. Now totally horrified by the mental state of his new landlord, Tonny glanced nervously at Will who met his eyes with a curious furrow of his brow over Tonny's odd but palpable hesitation. It was making them both nervous. Will lead them all up a set of wooden steps into a hallway, occasionally glancing back to Tonny whose face was still a twisted grimace of bewilderment at this bizarre ordeal.

At the top of the stairs, Will opened the first door, pausing briefly before stepping in with the strangers behind him. “Here it is,” he said. “It’s not much, but you can keep it how you want. I’m not picky. And I won’t come in here unless you ask me to.” He winced at his bizarre statement. _What the hell did you mean by that?! Christ, Will._

Tonny tipped his head more at Will’s wince than his words but Jacob didn’t seem to notice as he peered around the warm and comfortable room. A double bed made up with faded blue sheets and a tattered but warm blue quilt lined one wall. The nightstands were small rustic-looking tables that each held a small metal lamp. Other than a mismatching dresser in the corner, it was pretty sparse, but certainly adequate for someone like Tonny who was used to sleeping on couches and floors.   

Jacob nodded his approval, his hands on his hips. “This is great!” he said, smiling at Will. “I'll get outta here and let you three get settled. Thanks again, Will, and good luck, Tonny.” He wiggled his fingers across Aksel's cheek as he beamed at the wide-eyed baby glancing around the new ceiling. “I can let myself out, Will. Thanks.” He grinned at them both and gave Tonny a pat on the back before heading back down the stairs.

Tonny looked around the room while Will suspiciously watched him from the doorway. “It is ... nice,” said Tonny, unsure as to what he was supposed to say or why Will was still staring at him like a piece of meat.

“Thanks. It’s not much though like I said. But feel free to move stuff around or whatever you want,” he said, nervously smiling at the man milling around the room. “Oh, uh, my stable-hand, Layla, she said her sister has some baby things. I don’t know what, like a crib or something. She's bringing some of it over this evening. Said you could have it.”

Tonny raised his eyebrows alarmed by all of these unnecessarily kind gestures, wondering exactly what he was going to owe everyone for all these troubles. “Oh, um, thank you, but we are ok with this.”

“Yeah well, tell that to her,” he chuckled, stepping into the bedroom towards Tonny. “She’s, ah, staying over for dinner, too. I thought we could all meet. She works on the farm too. Takes care of the horses.”

Tonny nodded, still watching Will carefully, but then paused. “Dinner?” he asked, gently shaking his head in confusion. Was he going to be forced to eat with these people now? He was already regretting every decision he'd made that day.

“Yeah, food ... in the evening,” Will laughed, but Tonny just furrowed his eyebrows unamused by his definition. “Um, it's just some sausages and potatoes. That ok?”

Tonny nodded trying to remember the last time he’d had home-cooked food. Years maybe?

“Ok, so, I’ll just let you know when Layla gets here. Feel free to explore – inside or out. I’ll probably be in the kitchen if you need me. Bathroom’s across the hall.” Will gestured out the door behind him. “Make yourself at home … because you kind of are now.” He chuckled nervously before berating himself for how much he sounded like a serial killer who just trapped his next victim.

Tonny nodded, picking up on Will’s anxious tone. “Thank you,” he said, chewing his lip, still looking around the sparse room and bouncing Aksel in his arms. Not hearing a response, he glanced over, catching Will still staring at him. “Do you have a problem?” he asked, his lip curling up in a sneer at the man's bizarre behavior. Tonny was beginning to feel certain that the U.S. was made up of half a population of amazing people willing to give you the shirts off their backs, and half a population of crazy lunatics, like Will Graham, who stared at you imagining what it would be like to wear your skin _as_ a shirt.  

Will paused momentarily and attempted to figure out where the horrified look on Tonny’s face was coming from. “No ... No problem,” he said and he turned around and bounded down the stairs to the kitchen, thankful to escape _that_ awkward situation.

Tonny threw his backpack in the corner and laid Aksel on the bed to strip off his ratty black sweatshirt. He picked up the baby and sat down on the bed with a sigh. _So this is home for a while._ Tonny knew this place would afford him a great deal more privacy than the shelter and if Will turned out to just be socially awkward and not a madman, he might actually enjoy having the company. Tonny had always been a social person. Living so much of the last few months alone had taken its toll on him. He felt physically and emotionally starved. So much fear and dread had become pent up in him, that he felt like he could burst at any moment. It caused all his emotional tension to tightly coil in his chest, keeping him in a constant state of panic and wondering if the next person to look at him strangely was going to get attacked. He decided he needed to relax; he needed to placate this anxiety before he went back downstairs.

“This room is not bad,” he said to Aksel, watching his little eyes dart around the room. “Better than a shitty motel.” Tonny smiled at his restless little boy, squirming in his arms. "Want to look around?" He nodded his head, deciding that showing Aksel the house might be calming for both of them.

Cradling the baby, Tonny wandered across the hall to find the bathroom. They entered the small but comfortable room and Tonny showed Aksel the flickering of the lights being turned on and off, watching him glance around in wonder. He played peek-a-boo behind the shower curtain for a few minutes laughing at the unwavering tiny grin on the boy’s face. He suddenly jumped back, startled by lunatic Will Graham, standing just outside the doorway like a goddamn murderer.

“Sorry, jesus, I didn’t mean to scare you,” said Will, holding up his hands and reassessing his life as a member of the human race. “I just wanted to tell you that Layla's here – but take your time.” He attempted to smile which just turned into a pained wince so he abandoned all attempts to act normal and just carried on. Now that Tonny was just in a tee shirt, however, Will was having a hard time not staring at the random tattoos covering his forearms and hands. Snakes, knives, webs, flames – Will cataloged them in his head until his eyes drifted to the bundle in Tonny's arms and his focused on Aksel's face. “He’s cute," he said, smiling at the baby. He reached up to touch Aksel's tiny balled up fist, but dropped his hand to his side, thinking better of touching someone else child without permission.

Tonny watched Will hesitate to touch Aksel and wrinkled his forehead. "You can hold him," he said, offering the baby to Will. "Everybody touch him all the time. He's okay with it."

"Oh, um, it's-it's okay," he said, scrunching his nose and holding up his hands. Tonny ignored him, suddenly foisting Aksel into his arms as Will fumbled to correct his grasp on the child, clutching the baby to his chest. When Aksel was settled, now cradled in the crook of his arm, Will pulled back his blue and white knit blanket to peer at his little round face. He smiled down at the baby who stared up at him with bright-blue glassy eyes. A toothless mouth grinned back, fascinated by the outline of Will's glasses. Will lowered his voice as he rocked him in his arms, completely enamored by this fragile little bundle in his arms. "Hey, buddy," he whispered, stroking the baby's soft cheek with his finger. He pulled down Aksel's shirt, straightening out any uncomfortable wrinkles and fixed the wadded blanket under his back to lay flat. Aksel reached up, swatting towards Will, trilling and babbling at this new, strange face. Will listened intently to his bubbly voice and glance up to Tonny still smiling. "Are you going to teach him German _and_ English?" he asked.

Tonny scoffed. "Why German?" he asked, before his mouth dropped open, unable to speak, and he gawked at Will, trying to think of a way to backtrack. _Fuck! I'm supposed to be fucking German! Damn it!_  He immediately began sweating, his hand rapidly strumming against his leg, and he glanced around the bathroom suddenly feeling very very trapped.

Will shrugged. "Well, I mean, I don't know how long you plan on living here," he said, noticing Tonny's sudden and inexplicable aggravation. "... But being bilingual is very useful, as ... um, as you know ..." Will fully admitted that he was terrible at small talk, but this was excruciating and Tonny seemed incredibly uncomfortable by it.  _He's a baby; why the hell would Tonny be worried about him being bilingual?!_ Will cleared his throat and attempted another topic that would be a bit more straightforward. "So, how old is he?” 

Tonny rubbed the back of his head and sighed, relaxing as he seemed to have dodged the _German_ bullet. “Four months, I think,” he confessed. He hated admitting that he didn't quite know his son's actual age, but he honestly had no idea. Aksel's coked-up mother, Charlotte, had never told him and he never bothered to ask. _How fucked up is that?_ He shook his head, chastising himself silently for being such a goddamn failure.

“Well, when’s his birthday?” asked Will, curious to find out how a father could _not_ know the age of his own child.

Tonny just stared at him, unmoving, as a new anxiety crept through him from being asked this seemingly benign question. “I, ah, I am not sure. His mother – she was not a very, um, good mother. She was a bad mother and we did not get along together.”

Will’s eyes grew wide and darkened at Tonny’s confession. “I’m sorry to hear that.” The concern he felt for Tonny was very very real, not just polite conversational compassion. His chest ached with sadness for this young family torn apart by god knows what, now half a world apart and terrified. Tonny's eyes appeared lost and confused, nervously scanning the walls and floor. His empty hands tremored slightly, and he continually shifted his weight between his feet. Will studied his mannerisms briefly before he finally noticed the scowl lingering on Tonny's face and Will suddenly offered his son back to him, to hold and comfort and hopefully take his mind off whatever negativity was causing his emotional unrest. "I can leave you alone," said Will, backing out of the bathroom to give them both some privacy.

Tonny cradled his son against his chest as his hands steadied against the blanket. “Um, we are going downstairs,” said Tonny, deciding that they had explored enough of the upstairs. And despite the uncomfortable nature of some of Will's questions, he found that he liked his company enough to prefer it to being alone. He was tired of being alone.

“Right, okay, follow me.” Will turned and headed back down the steps also grateful for the reprieve from their strangely weighted conversation.

Tonny could hear and smell food cooking as he followed Will into the brightly lit farmhouse kitchen and it awakened a hunger in him he didn’t even realize was there. Sitting at the butcher block island in the middle of the kitchen were two girls who immediately looked over as they walked in.

“Holy fuck, who are you?” the dark haired one asked, apparently shocked by either Tonny’s presence or appearance.

“Layla, this is Tonny. Tonny, Layla. He's the new farm hand I hired to help me out around this mess,” said Will with a chuckle, walking to the stove to tend to their sizzling dinner.

“Well hello, Tonny.” Layla swiveled her stool and hopped down to more appropriately greet him. Will glanced at her, suspiciously wondering what her reaction would be to the newest members of their hodgepodge family. Tonny studied her young face as she approached him. Her nose was pierced and her long wavy dark-brown hair fell to the middle of her chest. She gasped when she finally noticed Aksel curled up in Tonny’s arms. “And who is this little guy?! Oh my god, he is so fucking cute! Em, look at the fucking cute-as-hell baby!” she shrieked, turning to her friend who hopped down to come inspect this _cute-as-hell_ baby.

The blonde seemed unimpressed as she warily peered into Tonny's arms. “Yep, that’s a baby,” she said, smiling nervously at Tonny before heading back to her stool.

“Shut up, Em. Oh my god. Can I hold him?!” Layla squealed with delight at the prospect. Tonny nodded and handed her the boy, glancing up at Will for his unnecessary approval. Will winked at him and that surprising gesture unexpectedly relaxed that coiled tension Tonny felt building in his chest. Aksel wiggled and squirmed before settling on Layla’s shoulder. “He’s so cute!” she screamed under her breath. “What’s his name?”

“Aksel,” said Tonny and Will simultaneously. They glanced at each other again and Will made an apologetic wince and nod.

“Very metal. Cool as hell.” Layla bounced the little boy in her arms, quietly repeating his name.

“I guess ...” Tonny was a tad embarrassed by someone fawning over his reluctantly and hastily made name selection.

Will looked towards the now highly uncomfortable blonde girl still staring at Tonny. “Emily, will you be staying for dinner?”

“Uh, no, Mr. Graham. My brother’s picking me up after work. He should be here in a few minutes,” she said quickly.

“Well, thanks for helping Layla with the horses today. I appreciate it.” Will smiled at the girl and turned back to the cooking food.

“No problem,” she replied, still eyeing Tonny who couldn’t help but glare back at her wary and nervous gaze. A loud honk outside had her quickly gathering up her things and saying goodbye to Layla before hurrying out the front door.

After she left, Tonny and Layla sat down in the two empty stools. “So ... ignore her,” said Layla to Tonny, and Will listened over his shoulder at the pair. “She is uber religious. I think your tats are cool but she probably has some sort of bible passage memorized that says you shouldn’t modify your temple or some shit, lest you be struck down by god,” she said chuckling.

Tonny smiled at her, nervously scratching across the tattoos on his forearms.

“So where are you from? Please say somewhere very very far from this hell hole,” she pleaded.

“Ha, um, Germany,” he claimed again, and he glanced up at the back of Will's head. He was now terrified that someone was going to ask him to speak in German. Tonny couldn't speak German. _Why the fuck did I say Germany to start with?! Do Americans know what Danish sounds like? Maybe they can't tell._

“Germany, very cool. You look very … Germanic,” she said smiling.

“Do I?” Tonny asked, his interest piqued. He had never really talked to new people like this. Casually, for fun, and about himself in a non-self-depreciating way.

“Yeah, I think so. Maybe it’s just your accent,” she chuckled again. “You look blond, I think? Maybe not.” She eyed the short dishwater-blond hair covering his head.

Tonny chuckled softly, “Maybe? It is light I think. You will see better soon. Not sure if I will keep this hair longer or shave it off again,” he said, rubbing his head full of two month’s worth of hair growth. "I always shave it."

“Shaved, huh? I like the skinhead look, you should do that. I’d like to see it,” said Layla pushing into Tonny with her upper arm. He scratched the back of his head in mild embarrassment as Will started plating their dinner.

"Don't shave it off," said Will. "You'll look like a criminal." He looked up to meet Tonny's worried eyes. "I mean, unless ..." He trailed off, refusing to complete that thought aloud. He returned to his task of filling their plates. "Do whatever you want; it's your head."  

Tonny averted his eyes to the island and remained silent, hoping no more of these god awful topics would continue to arise.

As Will handed the plates to the pair at the island he peered over Layla’s arm to look at the baby’s face. “I think he’s asleep,” he whispered.

“Oh shit, I brought that crib thing, but it’s still on the porch,” she remembered.

Will nodded and headed towards the front door to retrieve it, Tonny closely behind. They carried it and a few boxes and bags of other baby items up to Tonny’s room and set up the playpen along with a small space heater and some sort of brightly colored bouncing seat. “Starting to look like a nursery in here,” joked Will as they stood back to admire their handiwork.

Tonny sneered at the new set up in his room. “Yeah. It’s … great,” he said sarcastically, staring at the crib.

Will laughed and placed his hand nonchalantly on Tonny’s shoulder, squeezing it lightly. “Single parenthood. That’s rough, but hey, you’ve got some help now. I think Layla might just steal him away from you,” he joked, grinning at him.

“She is okay to take him whenever she wants,” he chuckled, feeling a slight relief washing over him. It would be nice to have a woman here to take care of the baby. Tonny sure as hell wasn't looking forward to doing it all.

The two men rejoined Layla downstairs and Tonny transferred Aksel into his new crib before coming down to dinner himself. He was surprised by the ease he was feeling in Will's home. They all ate together in the kitchen – Layla and Tonny at the island and Will standing opposite them, leaning against the counter. It felt like a tiny family to Tonny, without the apprehension of family gatherings he was so used to – ones with copious amounts of liquor and drugs that made for unpredictable behavior. Maybe these Americans weren’t as bad as he had initially thought, but he wasn't willing to dismiss his mistrust of these new people entirely.

Finally, Layla broke the silence that had fallen on the kitchen. “So, Tonny, how long are you going to work for old Willy here?”

“As long as he will let me,” he said, nodding his head. “I am stuck here now, in U.S., so if he needs me, I will help him.”

“You don’t have to talk about me like I’m not in the room, guys, jesus, and don't call me _old_ or _Willy_ ,” joked Will, pointing his fork at Layla.

“Sure thing, _Willy_ ,” she teased before returning her attention to Tonny. “So why are you in the U.S. then?”

Tonny put down his fork and rubbed his hands together, deciding how to answer this question. He remembered thinking about it on the plane before it landed, but he never really came up with a believable explanation. He debated lying, but he was having a difficult time remembering who knew what so he kept his answer brief. “My life was not good. I fuck up a lot, you know? My family is gone now and I was afraid for Aksel so we left.” He nodded to himself, content with that response. It was truthful and shouldn't prompt more questions.

“Not good, how?” pressed Layla. Will glanced over at Tonny wondering if he would respond, waiting to intervene if necessary.

“Um, well, I was in prison for a while,” he rubbed his face before continuing, and Will cringed at his earlier _criminal_ comment, “and my mother died year ago and no one told me. Lots of shit. Dangerous shit too, yes? Lots of dangerous people around me. I get tired of it.”

“Why were you in jail?” asked Layla casually, taking another bite. Will still waited, his eyes darting back to Tonny for his response.

He hummed and thought about how to respond to this as well, but in the end, he went with the truth again. “Drugs.” He sighed, biting his lip. "Cocaine?” He stated it more like a question. He felt like his guts were spilling onto the floor and he unconsciously rubbed his nose with the back of his thumb, sniffling. Noticing his own gestures, he tried to force his hands in his lap but he just continued to twitch. He felt like an idiot. It had been months since his last high but the cravings were still just under the surface of his skin, constantly threatening to bubble over. His hand left his lap to scratch his forehead as he continued to chew his chapped lip.

Layla now realized how uncomfortable this was getting for him. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be a bitch, I was just wondering. You don’t have to tell me shit,” she said, now embarrassed by her probing questions. Will continued to stare at Tonny with a type of morbid fascination. All of these strange divulsions were not particularly surprising – Will was a profiler after all – and he appreciated Tonny's willingness to share. It was a good sign that maybe he could be trusted, despite his sketchy past. 

When they finished their meal, Layla cleaned up the plates and gathered her things to leave. Will offered to drive her home but she decided to head out on foot. It was late in the evening now and Will and Tonny found themselves alone in the silent house.

The two men had intended to go for a walk around the farm, but the setting sun and cooler temperatures had them deciding to tour the farm first thing tomorrow morning. They were alone for now, so Will showed Tonny to the living room where a huge fireplace took up half of one of the walls. An old barely used TV sat next to the fireplace on a tippy wooden TV tray used as a makeshift stand and it was surrounded by various piles of objects relating to a multitude of hobbies. A desk in the opposite corner housed a strange looking contraption used for making flies. Tonny walked up and examined it, curiously wondering what type of crazy Will actually was.

“Fly fishing,” said Will. “I make my own flies. I sell them too. Just one of my many ... um, varied interests,” he admitted. “Do you fish, Tonny?”

“Nope,” he said still looking around the room.

“Can I get you a beer?” asked Will. Tonny nodded and joined Will on the couch when he returned from the kitchen.

“So the farm …," began Will, "We have cows, goats, horses, chickens, and then, of course, them,” he said, waving his hand at the various dogs in and around the multitude of dog beds all over the floor. “But Layla tends to the horses. Emily helps her occasionally. The goats are owned by the Owens across the road, so don’t worry about them unless they escape the fence … which happens a lot actually.” Will chuckled. “Now the cows, well, we own two dairy cows, I’ll show you them tomorrow. They get milked twice a day, but honestly, as soon as I can get out of it, I will. There's a family that owns one of the horses that buys the milk off me. I hate it. It’s too much work, but the family is so nice, I hate to just stop.” Will suddenly paused noting Tonny's averted eyed. “Is this too much information all at once?” he asked, staring at Tonny's bouncing knee.

“Nah, I just don’t know about any of that ... what you just said,” he admitted. What he didn’t admit was that he didn’t really care.  

“Don’t worry. It’s not difficult. It’s just five or six tasks a day. You’ll get the hang of it. If it helps, I can write a list for you,” said Will, beginning to stand to get a piece of paper.

“I don’t read English very good,” confessed Tonny, sipping his beer.

“Right, um, okay,” he said, sitting back down. He waved his hand in the air. “Don’t worry about it. You’ll get it. Milking a couple cows, collecting eggs, feeding the chickens, mowing the lawns, basic grounds maintenance, odd jobs – really that’s all it is. I take care of the rest. And the mowing season is over, so really, it’s not a lot.” Will immediately glanced up at the clock on the wall. “Shit, I need to call Layla, hold on.”

He grabbed his phone from the kitchen and dialed. While it rang he returned to Tonny, “Did you like Layla? Like do you think you’d mind her watching Aksel tomorrow so I can … Hey, it’s Will,” he interrupted himself. Tonny signaled OK and Will nodded, walking back to the kitchen to finish his conversation with Layla.

Tonny now sat alone in this unfamiliar room so he began mulling over the last few days in his head. This was not ideal – this strange situation he was in – but it was better, at least. It was a house, warm and dry, though it did happen to be occupied by a crazy man. Layla presented him with the possibility of having a doting caretaker for his son, someone who could give the boy the type of touch and affection that he assumed infants enjoyed from women. Through all of these thoughts and realizations, Will continued to live at the very edge of his mind, ever present, stuck as though burning in a still-forming memory. His behavior seemed strange and troubling, but there was something in him that Tonny could sense ... Will wanted to do good and be a good person. He genuinely wanted to help Tonny, and he could see it, even if he did constantly stare at him unsettlingly. He was at least trying to make him feel welcome.

Will barged into his contemplations, returning with two more beers. “Sorry about that. I just asked her to come over early tomorrow. You know, she’s really taken by your little boy.” Tonny nodded his understanding. She did seem particularly taken by Aksel. “So, tell me more about yourself. I kind of hired you sight unseen.” Will snickered and then backtracked. “Not that I think there is anything wrong with you. And your criminal past doesn't bother me at all ...” Will cringed.  _Why? Why would you say that?_

Tonny chuckled again, baffled by how many strangely backhanded comments Will continued to make. “What do you want to know?” he asked, sipping his beer and reclining back onto the couch. He was starting to not fucking care. He was exhausted and finally not running.

“Tell me about your life in Germany. It sounded intense.” Will turned himself to better face Tonny, leaning back on the arm of the couch. He felt himself relaxing as they spoke. This was a strange camaraderie Will hadn’t really shared with another person before. He was a compelling individual – both exotically foreign and somehow strangely familiar. And yet, through all of that, both intriguing and a tad frightening. He was hopeful that these last few months out here alone in the farmlands of Virginia were doing him some good and allowing him to open up and form new friendships.

Tonny took a deep breath and scratched his face. “Well, I didn’t do a lot.” He laughed nervously. “I worked with my friend, Frank, for a while. Did coke and dope, or whatever I could find. I was arrested two times. I worked for my father; then I come here.”

Will ignored the drug-riddled comments mainly out of denial, but he told himself it was in an attempt to avoid incriminating topics that might make Tonny uncomfortable. “What does your father do?”

“He had a garage,” said Tonny nervously, and Will nodded.

“I mess with engines myself. If you know something about cars, that could actually help me out a lot,” Will said hopeful, grinning at Tonny.

“No, not really,” confessed Tonny, being as curt as he could. His father didn't own _that_ kind of garage. He was a car thief, and Tonny's old man was the only topic he was truly terrified to discuss.

“Damn,” said Will, smiling. “Well if you’d like to learn, I have a pile of parts in the garage that used to be three boat engines you're welcome to mess around with.” He nervously snickered and continued drinking his beer.

Tonny had finished his drink within two minutes of receiving it, so Will offered him another. When he returned, he brought a calendar with him and set it on the coffee table. “There are certain days I’ll be gone all afternoon. I have a standing appointment every week and depending on if I'm bothered by my former employers, I may be gone for a few days here and there. I’m not supposed to be, but …” Will trailed off shaking his head. “So that,” he said, pointing at the calendar, “marks most of the days I’ll be gone, just so you're aware. Layla and my cell numbers are also in there.”

“The appointment … is that with doctor that looks like me?” wondered Tonny.

“Ha, yeah, good memory ... he's a psychiatrist,” said Will, setting down his beer. “It’s strange though. You look just like him. Must be a Northern European thing.” He chuckled as he studied Tonny's face. “But now that you say it, I’m not so sure _you're_ the more pissed off one. He’s pretty intense.” Will nodded to himself, hearing Hannibal’s stern but intoxicating voice echo inside his head.

“Why do you see ... psychiatrist?” asked Tonny, slowly sounding out the word.

Will paused thinking. “Just thought it would be a good idea. He helps me figure things out,” he said, tapping on his temple.

“Are you crazy?” asked Tonny, genuinely curious and Will choked on his beer.

“Um, no, not crazy. I just have a hard time shutting down my mind sometimes,” said Will with an errant look of fatigue falling across his face. “I’ve always had a difficult time around people – socially – and in the last few months I’ve needed some time to think – just, recharge.” Tonny could see that. Will certainly looked worn out to him. But a man at the end of his rope was definitely not to be trusted, especially someone with weekly psychiatric appointments and an unhealthy obsession with … everything Will seemed to be obsessed with. Tonny glanced around the room suddenly feeling uneasy again.  

They had finished their beers and their conversation when Will decided to go work out in the garage for a few hours leaving Tonny alone in the living room. By now, Aksel was awake so they explored the rest of the house together, opening cupboards and doors, poking around in closets, assessing the state of the house and the state of Will’s mind.

After rummaging through all the drawers in the kitchen, Tonny pocketed about ten dollars in random bills and loose change before giving Aksel a bottle of cold milk from the fridge. They ascended the stairs and after looking around intrusively, Tonny figured out which door was Will’s bedroom. He was curious to open it but felt a twinge of guilt at this particular invasion of privacy. So he ignored the mysterious room and deciding to spend the remainder of the evening alone, he and Aksel made themselves comfortable in their room, locking the door behind them.


	9. Sorrows Almost were Forgot

It was Saturday morning and as requested, Layla showed up early to watch Aksel. She burst into the house absolutely elated to get to look after the baby for awhile. She had brought with her a huge bag of toys and plopped the boy down on his belly in front of the lit fireplace and surrounded him with every shape and color she could find. Tonny was unable to put into words what her excitement had meant to him so he knelt down beside the two and kissed Layla on the cheek. “Thank you for this,” he declared, holding his fist over his heart.

Layla nodded at him with a pained look of sympathy in her eye before lavishing her attention back onto Aksel. Will and Tonny then left them both giggling on the rug with the dogs and their bright pile of toys to head outside and explore the farm together.

Will showed Tonny the various areas of the farm that he should be familiar with: the stables, the garages, the barns, and a myriad of other things including the chicken coop, which Tonny seemed oddly interested in. He circled the coop, eyeing the strange chicken wire walls that Will had haphazardly patched together with wire and wooden planks.

"I have a fox problem," he said, watching Tonny examine his hack-job. "I can't keep them out and it's becoming an issue. I've tried everything, but they get in the hen house constantly. And it's a goddamn bloodbath when they do." He kicked some dirt over a blood-covered piece of plywood on the ground.

Tonny continued to circle the hen house construction, occasionally rocking a wooden beam, testing its strength. "Did you put fence in the ground?" he asked, bending down to look at the bottom of the chicken wire.

"Not yet, but it's on my list:  _bury the fence_. Right next to:  _burn down the chicken coop_ ," he chuckled, wondering why Tonny seemed so intrigued by the coop.

Tonny smiled and pulled out his cigarettes, returning to Will. He offered him a smoke but Will politely declined with a wave of his hand. "I don't care if you smoke, but, um, can you not do it in the house?" 

Tonny eyed him as he lit his cigarette, blowing a puff of smoke downwind behind him. He nodded, shrugging his shoulders but he had no intention of following Will's smoking rule. He'd be outside constantly if he was forced out of the house to smoke. _He'll get fucking used to it,_ he thought.

Will eventually led Tonny through the field along a weathered footpath that led out to the far pasture to see the herd of cows coming in from the back twenty acres. It was a chilly morning in late October and they both buried their hands in their pockets from the cool breeze that swept over the land. They followed the trail that ran along the seeming neverending wooden fence that divided the land into two, a golden grassy, hilly field to their left and a rocky yellowing pasture beyond the fence to their right. They wandered, Tonny sucking down cigarettes and Will anxiously studying him, until the came upon a tree far out and in the middle of the meadow. 

"Ah yes, my orchard," said Will with a chuckle. Tonny looked over at him, confused. "It's an apple tree," he explained, pointing out at a lone, gnarled tree surrounded by a few rocks and a sea of tall grass.

"Are they good to eat?" asked Tonny, attempting to make conversation. He ashed his cigarette on the ground watching some unidentified creature bound into the weeds.

"No. Not really," said Will. "But I eat them anyway because they're edible and I don't think they'll kill me." He smiled at Tonny.

"You are fuckin' weird." Tonny snickered at him and continued to suck down his smoke as his body slowly relaxed, that coil in his chest releasing as he took in the expansive space that surrounded them.

Will pointed up the trail and they continued their trek, slowly ascending a hill at the top of which they finally stopped to look down into the pasture. "If you keep going," said Will nodding down the path, "it takes you all the way to a small pond. Beyond that, you'll get to the woods – about ten acres with a stream running through it. It's nice, relaxing. It's a good place to go to be alone ... if you ever need to be alone."

Tonny dug the toe of his shoe into the dirt. "I don't really like that," he said, "Um, being alone. Never have." He dropped his cigarette butt into the tiny hole he'd made and carefully buried it.

"That's the first of I'm sure _many_ differences between us," snickered Will, "I like the solitude. That's why I bought this farm; I needed a place to reevaluate my mind and take stock of my life."

“I am surprised by the space,” said Tonny with a sort of astonishment in his voice as he continued to look out into the pasture. He had never really seen such expansive amounts of land on all sides. It was impressive.

“So, did you grow up in a city?” asked Will, leaning his back against the wooden fence, waiting for the cows to wander over.

“Yeah. And I never left the city until … this,” Tonny gestured at the pasture full of cows. “I don’t think I've seen a living cow. Only pictures.”

“Really?” asked Will, astounded by his admission. They both pondered this until Will continued, “I love all this space, too. It’s freeing. I used to live in Wolf Trap – it's not far from here. But this, this is exactly what I wanted. I get to relax, breathe, and I think getting away from my colleagues is good for my mental state.”

“Copenhagen is okay city,” blurted Tonny, “but it is not so nice to me.” He leaned on the fence, dangling his arms over it as he looked out into the grassy pasture that ended at an island of trees, now covered in the last remnants of their red and gold leaves, that hid the stream.

Will paused taking in the scene, his mind fixating on Tonny’s words. “I thought you said you came from Germany?” he said, still looking out over the field towards his apple tree, intentionally avoiding eye contact with Tonny. He could feel him tense beside him and heard Tonny's barely audible sigh.

“I said Germany, yes.” He paused to collect himself. “And I say Copenhagen now,” he admitted. “And that is all I’m going to fucking say I think.” He and Will stood silently for several minutes, both reexamining every conversation they'd had thus far, searching for more inconsistencies. Tonny was mildly panicking inside while Will was attempting to force his mind to just let it all go. It didn't fucking matter and he refused to let himself get lost in a sea of obsession, wondering about this troubled man's past.

“Fair enough,” said Will after a few minutes, nodding his head. He turned around to look out at the view that Tonny was staring towards but certainly not at. “All these are the neighbors’,” he said pointing to the herd of cattle moving towards them, “so, feel free to ignore them,” he chuckled. “Let’s head back, I can show you what I’m working on in the barn.” The two men wandered back through the pastures and fields in silence. Once again, Tonny was dumbfounded by the kindness these people had shared with him. Will could have interrogated him, but he chose not to. Or maybe he just didn’t give a damn? Either way, Tonny was appreciating the privacy and his chest loosened a bit more.

When they got to the barn, Will forcefully fished through his pockets trying to will his keys to appear to no avail, and he swore under his breath. “I left my damn keys in the house. I’m going to run up. Give me a minute,” he said before taking off to jog back to the house.

Will huffed inside, nodding to Layla who was watching TV with Aksel on the couch. After several minutes, he located the correct keys, mumbling to himself about the state of his disorganized kitchen. As he was about to head back to the barn his pocket vibrated. He pulled out his phone and examined it. _Dr. Lecter_ was displayed on the screen. He stared at it for a few seconds contemplating their potential conversation and his hand almost instinctually answered it ... be it didn't. He dismissed the call and re-pocketed the phone. As he neared the front door, intent on rejoining Tonny to show him the canoe in the barn, the door rapidly pulled away from his hand to reveal Tonny, bloody and panicking on the porch.

“Do you have a gun?!” he said, frantically pawing at his bleeding leg.

Will was aghast and confused. “What?! What the hell happened?” He stared at the blood gushing from Tonny’s thigh.

“Will! _Gun!_ Do you have one?!” Tonny asked more forcefully, reaching down to press hard against his wound.

“Yeah, I have a couple. What happened?” he said, noticing a pool of blood behind him.

“Sick dog, I hit it. It needs shot. It's still alive. Just go get a gun, Will!”

Will ran up the steps to his room, ripping open his closet to retrieve a gun from his safe. He bolted back down the steps, loading it and handed the handgun to Tonny as they both burst through the front door.

“Where is it?” he asked, rounding the house.

“Behind the barn.” Tonny winced in pain, limping quickly to the scene of the accident. Will glanced at him, fearful and concerned as he was losing what appeared to be an unsettling amount of blood.

“It came around barn and grabbed my leg. I hit it with that and got its head.” He nodded to the bloody shovel they both stepped over as they neared the back of the barn. Will finally saw the dog stumbling around in the grass. Its head was partially caved in and its tongue hung from its mouth. Tonny raised the gun, aiming at the dog.

“Oh no, fuck.” Will signed painfully. “It’s Duke.”

Tonny's mouth dropped open. “Are you fucking with me?!” he screamed. Will stumbled back, startled by Tonny’s sudden fury as he held a gun. Tonny turned back to the dog, emptying the clip into its lumbering body before he and the dog collapsed to the ground in bloody heaps.

* * *

“ _Tonny_ ?” said a voice. “ _Tonny? Hey man, can you hear me?_ ”

Tonny briefly opened his eyes and then closed them again. _“Tonny, you have lost a lot of blood, man, but we're patching you up, ok?”_ The voice was loud and stern but clear. He opened his eyes again and saw a red-bearded man looking down at him. “Hey, there Tonny. We are _almost_ there, ok?” The man was patting his shoulder and talking to another person. Tonny looked down over the plastic mask on his face to see a terrified Will sitting at his feet. His eyes were locked on Tonny as he spoke to the other man. As Tonny's vision fixated on Will's horrified gaze, he felt his body relax and he closed his eyes again.

The next time they reopened he was in a hospital bed, dazed, confused, and nauseated, but not alone. Will's head snapped up from his chest as he noticed Tonny move. He dragged his chair closer to the bed. “Hey, Tonny, you’re awake. We're at the hospital. You passed out. That fucking dog tore into your femoral artery.” Will took a deep breath. “Umm, the artery in your leg,” he simplified, rattling on with relief that Tonny was awake. He gently laid his hand on Tonny's non-injured leg and his chest tightened with guilt over the what had transpired.

Groggy, Tonny looked at him, blinking through the confusion. “I know what it is. I'm not stupid,” he said, rubbing his head and trying to sit up. He lied. Even in his weakened state, he was attempting to not look like an uneducated idiot, because for some reason, around Will, that’s what he felt like.

“Sorry,” said Will, pressing the button to raise the bed up behind Tonny. This was a complete disaster. How could he have let this happen? Will rubbed his face and shook his head, his eyes pleading for more than just forgiveness for the attack but for his complete and total ineptitude as a human. He was such a failure at everything.

Tonny nodded as the bed gently touched his back. Will seemed to be aching with concern and he was taken aback by his consideration. _“God damn,”_ he whispered, rubbing his eyes. Will was missing his flannel shirt and his tee-shirt seemed to be covered in blood – his blood, he assumed. “What the fuck happened?”

“You shot the dog and collapsed. I called an ambulance. Layla still has Aksel,” explained Will. “They had to do some minor surgery, but not much, and you are all stitched up.” He paused with a grimace. “Man, I am so sorry. So _unbelievably_ sorry.” He scooted his chair even closer to the bed. “Oh my god, you have no idea. Fucking Duke …” Will held his face in his hands.

And then Tonny suddenly remembered. _Fucking Duke_ , he repeated in his foggy head. 

“And uh, they started you on a rabies treatment,” confessed Will, wincing at this horribly embarrassing fact. He clenched his jaw as he apologetically stared at Tonny, his eyes still pleading forgiveness.

Tonny furrowed his eyebrows. What did he say? His mind was still muddled and confused from the anesthesia. “Rabies?!” he snapped.

Will put up his hands. “You _don't_ have rabies. Well, not now. But yeah, the dog … I’m so sorry Tonny, jesus, I’m sorry. Duke has always been temperamental. He runs off a lot. He can be a bully – gets in fights. I just can’t believe this happened. I really am so sorry Tonny, jesus fucking christ. You have no idea.” Will's heart raced as he attempted to swallow back the lump of guilt building in his throat. 

Tonny shook his head, barely listening to Will’s litany. _Its name was Duke. Why?_ he thought, ignoring everything else. This was frightening and he felt his skin prickle and tingle as he broke out in a sweat. He peered at Will's troubled face and there was something about his softened, remorseful eyes, that Tonny found comfort in and he relaxed back into the bed. "It's okay, Will. I'm okay," he said. "This blood mine, yes? Not from you?" he said, pointing to Will's shirt. Will slowly nodded. "Okay, good," said Tonny, smiling at him in an attempt to ease Will's distress.

* * *

Doctors and nurses, shots, IVs, pain meds, bandage changes … Tonny, hated being confined to a bed, so by the next day, he was up, testing his ability to walk and ready to leave. A neighbor had dropped off Will's truck so he could go home and get Tonny fresh, non-sliced or blood-covered clothes. He immediately raced back to the hospital, berated himself the entire drive for putting another person’s life in danger. His mind reeled with the possibility of that having been him all alone, or worse yet Layla. He was totally disgusted with himself and realized that his friends were right. He was going to get himself killed.

Back at the hospital, Tonny was being discharged. A nurse wheeled him to the exit where Will was waiting to help him into the truck. He wrapped his arm around the limping man and boosted him up into the seat, cringing at his gasps and hisses from the pain.

“Tonny, I just ... _holy fuck_ , okay…” he muttered, straining for words. The guilt was overwhelming him and he had no idea how to make any of this better. Every wince and hiss escaping Tonny's mouth sent a jolt of agony down Will's spine and he desperately needed it to stop.

“Will, it is fine, I just want to go back to the house,” sighed Tonny, reclining into the seat and closing his eyes. He was too tired and in pain to even bother fastening his seatbelt so he just laid there, taking in the calmness of the silent cab of the truck.

Will watched Tonny relaxing. His body was slowly going limp as he lightly and absentmindedly stroked his fingers over where his bandages lay under his pants. “Did, uh, they give you any prescriptions to fill?” asked Will, staring at Tonny's stroking hand. He averted his eyes and started the truck before noticing Tonny's lack of a seatbelt. That was unacceptable. He'd already put his life in danger with a rabid dog mauling. Before Tonny could protest, Will leaned over him, clumsily reaching for his seatbelt as Tonny opened his eyes, wondering why Will was on top of him and brushing against his chest. Will grabbed the buckle and pulled it down, running it over Tonny's lap and clipping it in. He sat straight up, chewing his lip, embarrassed over the tragically bizarre and unexpected decision he'd just made to grope the injured man for absolutely no reason. He could have just asked him to do it.

Tonny stared at him, shaking his head and scoffing at his awkward and ridiculous display of ... whatever that was. “I could have done that,” Tonny said flatly, straightening out his sweatshirt. “My hands are okay.”

“Yeah. That’s ... probably true,” confessed Will, turning red and staring out the windshield. “I’m not even sure why I just did that.”

“If you want to grab my dick, just ask,” chuckled Tonny, working his lighter out of his pants pocket. "I got nothin' else to do around here."

Will swallowed hard to clear the agonizing shame welling up within him. “Fuck, fuck, fuck everything, because I’m a fucking idiot,” he said, blowing off his embarrassed tension by swearing. He rubbed his hands down his face refusing to look in Tonny's eyes.

Tonny laughed at him again and lit a cigarette. If Will became this flustered over everything, he might just enjoy getting the opportunity to mess with him. He was very easy to agitate. He fished a piece of paper out of his other pocket and handed it to Will.

“Oh, yeah ... an antibiotic, right,” he grumbled, reading the crumpled prescription. “I’ll fill this after I drop you off.”

They drove in silence for a few miles before the repetitive whir of the highway began grating on Will's nerves. “Hell of a first day on the job,” he said with a pleading grin, glancing over at Tonny who was enjoying his smoke, smiling at whatever thoughts were flipping through his head.

Tonny chuckled at Will's comment. “I guess so,” he agreed, rubbing the bandage under his pants again. “Should I expect more like this?” he joked.

“Jesus christ, I hope not,” said Will, huffing in disgust. He slowly relaxed, hearing a slight joviality return to Tonny's tone. “And as soon as you're up and around, I think I may owe you a beer,” he said, and Tonny grinned, happily agreeing wholeheartedly.


	10. “I hired a new farm hand.”

“I hired a new farm hand,” said Will, plopping into his chair in Hannibal’s office with an exasperated sigh. He stared vacantly at Hannibal, unable to even form the words to describe the chaos that he'd been buried in for the last few days. “Great idea, by the way ... _thanks_.”

Hannibal smiled. “That’s wonderful, Will." He cocked his head as he noted Will's sarcastic tone and haggard appearance. Will always appeared a bit tattered and drained, but he looked particularly spent that day and his face seemed completely and utterly guilt-stricken. "Is it not working out?” he asked, shifting in his seat.

 _Is it not working out?_ Will asked himself this question, slowly repeating each word in his mind.  _Is it not working out?_ There were no words. There were no English words to describe the clusterfuck that surrounded his new farm hand. _Clusterfuck, that's not bad._ The ceaseless barrage of hatred and self-loathing that was peppered through his constant internal reprimanding since the  _accident –_  as he now referred to it – had caused within Will a certain war – a battleground between his ability to be a responsible adult and his total lack of common sense. He was being torn apart with remorse and guilt over the pain and suffering he'd caused this complete stranger – a stranger that he felt was already hurting, scared, and alone. “His first day," he said, glancing at his hands in shame, "he got mauled by a dog, who he then beat with a shovel, and shot six times. We spent the night in the hospital. He had to get treated for rabies,” he stated emotionlessly as his shameful gaze lifted to meet Hannibal's.

Hannibal’s eyes widened as he smirked and paused briefly so as not to laugh in the face of Will's obvious pain. “Did ... hmm." He brought his hand to his mouth to both hide and stifle his laughter again. "Did he quit?” he asked, his voice unwavering as he slightly nodding his head. He returned his hand to his lap and cleared his throat.

Will narrowed his eyes and huffed through his nose, sensing Hannibal's restraint. This wasn't humorous. He was serious. A man could have died because of his irresponsibility. “No,” he snapped, noticing the smirk Hannibal was attempting to suppress.

Hannibal crossed his legs and cleared his throat again. “Sounds like he’s working out fine then,” he said, chuckling silently under his breath.

Throwing himself back in his chair, Will crossed his arms and glared at him. If he wasn't already feeling mind-numbing amounts of guilt about injuring his new employee, he may have felt compelled to fly across the room and attack him for his flippant little remarks. “I don’t think it’s that funny, Dr. Lecter,” he sneered. He almost killed someone ... again ... and it wasn't just _someone_ , it was a _kid_ ... a kid who had a baby to take care of. He was a father who had come to this country looking for help and a new life, and Will's goddamn attempt to _help_  the poor bastard had the man sent to the hospital for a surgical procedure and a three-week long rabies treatment!

“Oh, Will …” Hannibal gently shook his head, biting his lip. “Are you going to let him go then?”

Will sighed, his eyes darting around the room. He hadn't decided _what_ he was going to do about all this. He was still reeling from the fact that he let it all happen in the first place. He couldn't fire him, of course not. Hell, he had yet to even pay him for his first week there. And he liked Tonny; he didn't want to send him away. “No. It wasn’t his fault. I should have told him about Duke or-or put him down months ago.” Will sighed again and closed his eyes, squeezing the bridge of his nose under his glasses. How could he have let this happen? 

“Well, other than the mauling, shooting, and ... rabies,” Hannibal had to pause again, “do you think he will fit in well with you and your situation,” he asked, still trying to hide his amusement.

“My situation?” sneered Will, becoming enraged by Hannibal's emotional suppression.

“Your new home; your new life, Will. The solitude you require. Do you think he will allow you time and space, and fulfill the needs you have for him?”

Will gulped back a choking feeling that had developed at the back of his throat. He quickly averted his eyes from Hannibal’s penetrating gaze by casually glancing down at his now wringing hands. His  _needs_ for him? What the hell did he mean by that? His _needs?_ He didn't _need_ Tonny. What _needs_ would he have for him? He liked him alright – he thought he was intriguing – and he _was_ curious to know more about him ... but he didn't _need_ him. Will was willing to admit that he enjoyed his strange company and comments, and he fully appreciated having someone to eat dinner with in the evening, and he certainly liked playing with his son ... but he didn't _need_ all that – though he was willing to admit that he kind of _wanted_ it. He suddenly realized that Hannibal was referring to his need for help on his farm and he blushed in embarrassment at his initial assumption.  _God damn it, Hannibal_ , he thought.

“Will?” pressed Hannibal, curious about the man's sudden internal agitation and reddening face.

Will shifted nervously in his seat. “Yes. I think he'll be fine,” he said, looking him in the eye, “After, you know, he recovers.”

Hannibal grinned. “Good. I’m excited to meet him.” 

Will slowly nodded in response, his mind busy picturing what exactly would happen when Hannibal and Tonny met for the first time. For some unexplainable reason, he suddenly remembered that he hadn't locked his gun safe after the dog attack ... “I’m sure you’ll just love him,” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm, and Hannibal narrowed his eyes in suspicion.


	11. Quench Them with Their Tears

“Beer or something else?” asked Will when he and Tonny reached the bar. It had been three weeks since the dog attack and Tonny was finally finished with his rabies treatment and they were starting to form a daily routine in the household, though it was a little tense. Will had been looking forward to this outing as a way to really get to know Tonny. Their interactions at the farmhouse had been a tad brusque since the mauling, and Will was determined to mend this unfortunate and bizarre rift between them.

“Shots?” suggested Tonny, looking for the quickest and most efficient way to get drunk. He was completely done with life at the moment. He needed to get trashed, high, and laid; preferably in that order, but he wasn't picky.

“Um, sure. What’ll we have?” wondered Will. Liquor wasn’t really what he had in mind, but since he owed Tonny, he was happy – or at least willing – to oblige.

“American whiskey. Is it good?” asked Tonny, tapping the bar to the beat of the music playing over the speakers. He was feeling particularly excited to be in a bar. With no drugs and very little beer in the farmhouse, Tonny was itching to escape by any means necessary, and alcohol just happened to be his only option for mental liberation.

“Uh, yeah. I guess so,” said Will. Tonny flagged down the bartender and attempted to order a couple shots before Will was forced to translate his heavily accented English. When the bartender brought over two shots, Tonny snapped his back and immediately asked for another two before Will had even reached across the bar. Will raised his eyebrows. “Celebrating or forgetting?” he asked, amused by this new relaxed version of Tonny.

“Huh?” wondered Tonny, swallowing his third shot while staring at the football game airing on the huge television over the bar. The whiskey was warming his stomach and chest as he focused on the light buzz of his inhibitions being lifted off his shoulders.

“Are you celebrating something or drowning your sorrows?” Will stated more clearly, peering into his full shot glass unsure if he even wanted it now. He never did like bars and this one was loud and busy. Why didn't he just take him to a goddamn liquor store?

“Can it be both?” grinned Tonny, his eyes still fixed on the television. The green field and the blue and gray of the stands were just something to fixate on as his mind slowed and dulled.

Will smiled nervously and tipped his shot, hissing as it slid down his throat. “I’m ... uh, not really a drinker.” He winced and coughed after taking a breath. “Well not liquor, anyway. Messes with my head.”

“Isn't that the point?” asked Tonny as he surveyed the other patrons in the bar, looking for potential aggression. Several were looking at him and he glared menacingly back at them.

“I suppose for some people, it is,” agreed Will, beginning to wonder how drunk Tonny was intending to get. His eyes followed Tonny's gaze as they fell on several groups of unnecessarily aggressive and drunken men. _This is not going to end well._  

“If you don’t drink, we don't have to come here,” he said, glancing over at Will. “I am okay with bottle of whiskey or some beer ... and ten fucking minutes alone to jerk off," he muttered, thinking of Aksel wailing all night in his room. He turned to the bartender. "Two more!” he shouted towards him, holding up two fingers.

“Maybe slow down a little, Tonny,” suggested Will, making eye contact with the bartender who nodded at him in agreement. Will grit his teeth, his gut churning. He knew he should have just taken him to the fucking liquor store.

“Nah,” laughed Tonny, stacking the four now-empty shot glasses, not noticing Will’s exchange with the bartender. “I guess, celebrating,” he finally answered. Will looked up at him, pleased to note that he wasn't attempting to forget the last several painful weeks of vaccine injections and seeping wounds. Tonny was staring intently at the glasses on the bar. “It’s been _bad_. Last few months – running and hiding and looking for money. And then you and your stupid fucking dogs ...” he joked.

Will cringed. “Yeah, uh, don’t remind me. And then doing all of that with Aksel – it had to be difficult for you, and I’m not really helping,” he said with a pained sighed. This had been a hard pill for him to swallow. He had immediately wanted to help Tonny when they first met, but his awkwardness and keen ability to fuck up most normal situations was ruining any chance he had at being supportive to this struggling little family.

“No, you are helping,” said Tonny, taking his fifth shot. Will felt a slight relief upon hearing that, even if it was from someone teetering on the edge of shitfaced. 

“You plan on ever going back?” asked Will. “To whatever country you came from, I mean.”

“Nej,” admitted Tonny, “I'm not okay to go home. I never was I think. Nobody miss me, so ...” he trailed off, shrugging his shoulders as he gripped onto the bar.

Will warily eyed him. “What about Aksel? His grandparents? Won’t they miss him?”

Tonny paused and scowled, his mind churning with thoughts of his family. “Dead,” he said, and he slashed his hand through the air with finality. “All dead.”

Will hesitated, sensing another inconsistency to Tonny’s story, before deciding to just accept whatever he had to say without question. He had no right to scrutinize his words or demand the truth from someone he barely knew. “I’m sorry to hear that,” he stated, ”I really am.”

Tonny scoffed at his condolences. “Why? You never meet them.”

Will chuckled to himself, “I guess you’re right, but I’m still sorry.” 

The conversation lulled and Will wasn’t as comfortable with the silence as he thought he’d be. Tonny didn't seem as concerned with his blood-alcohol level as Will was, and Will felt his back stiffening as he continued to watch Tonny pour more liquor down his throat. Will was grasping for topics to keep Tonny's attention on him rather that the bar. _If he's talking he can't be drinking,_ he surmised. "What’s the story with all the tattoos?” he asked, feeling warm, if only from his single shot.

“Which one?” mused Tonny again, ordering two more shots. The bartender looked at Will who reluctantly nodded his approval, though this time Will slid one in front of himself. Tonny suddenly and clumsily pulled up his sleeves to show Will his tattooed arms and then wrenched up the bottom of his sweatshirt and turned around, revealing a smattering of ink all over his back.

“Hm,” hummed Will, nodding. It was embarrassing to have Tonny practically stripping in public as he showed him his naked and gaunt stomach, chest, and arms, “I meant R-E-S-P-E-C-T,” said Will, spelling it out to the tune of the song. He immediately regretted his mocking tone and felt like an idiot. “I mean ... you could see it a little, under your hair when we met ... what’s it mean? Maybe a, um, metaphor?” He winced at his own words and quickly hid behind his second shot more to stop himself from speaking than to actually hide.

Tonny sat up, staring at him unamused. “It means _respect_ ,” he snapped in his cleanest, clearest English.

Will nodded, his face reddening and he turned his attention to absolutely anything else within eyesight. He hated trying to be social because this is where it got him, being snapped at by an angry drunk German ... or some such person. He liked Tonny though, oddly enough. He was bizarre and different and out of Will’s usual comfort zone, thought he was wholeheartedly regretting this particular trip out together.

Tonny, who had been feigning seriousness, suddenly laughed at Will’s obvious discomfort. “You are too …” he hesitated, trying to find the word, “...  _spændt_. Like, worry.”

“Tense, high-strung, jittery, nervous,” suggested Will, laughing. “Any of those would work.”

“Yes, ha!” Tonny clapped Will on the shoulder, completely dissipating the embarrassed tension Will had built between them. Tonny's hand lingered on Will's shoulder, drunkenly staring at his fingers until he slid his hand down Will's arm and let go. "You too tense," he mumbled staring at Will arm.

Will followed Tonny's gaze down to his own arm. “I guess I don’t relax very often,” he confessed, reaching over to drop his shot glass on the bar. “I don’t have a lot of … _human_ friends,” he chuckled, “and my consulting job has been,” he struggled to find the appropriate words himself, “... stressful, I’ll say.”

“What job?” asked Tonny, still smiling as he fingered another full shot glass.

“With the FBI,” clarified Will. Tonny’s eyes widened and his jovial grin rapidly vanished as he stood up straight. This immediate visceral reaction to his mention of the FBI had Will suddenly questioning Tonny's move to the US. “I’m not a cop ... anymore,” he assured, “I just consult on certain homicide cases. Murders, you know.”

That fact didn’t reassure Tonny at all as he stiffened his back, gripping the bar until his knuckles whitened. “You, uh, police?” he asked after a long pause followed by another necessary shot. He gulped it back along with his rapidly mounting fear.

Will was growing concerned by Tonny’s reaction and his diminishing English. Actually, he was growing terrified. His own anxiety over this entire ordeal was creeping to the forefront of his mind. He didn’t like being around drunk people and he barely knew Tonny and he seemed to have an unreasonably panicked reaction to Will's mention of the FBI.

“Yes, and not really. It’s complicated.” Will nervously sighed, still eyeing Tonny before continuing, “I do work with agents, but also psychiatrists, to pursue particularly difficult-to-catch criminals.” He tried to choose his words carefully because this was obviously a terrifying discussion for Tonny. “Your past is your past,” he insisted, “You are just my farmhand. Living in this great country of ours, er ... _mine_ , legally, I think. And even though I do pay your wages under the table, uh, that’s irrelevant ...” he chuckled out loud and Tonny joined in, still clearly nervous, though also clearly inebriated. He doubted the man fully understood any of his ramblings, but hell, he barely understood them himself.

“I gotta piss. Where's the toilets?” slurred Tonny, attempting to stand.

“Over there. You need any help?” asked Will, nervously and quickly standing.

“ _Nej_ ,” Tonny said smiling and swatting at Will who was holding out his arm to help him. Tonny stood up fine, but stumbled down the half step that elevated the bar before catching himself on Will’s arm. “I'm fine … no, I okay! I walk,” he declared, laughing and pushing Will away from him.

“For christ’s sake,” scoffed Will, and he swung Tonny’s arm over his neck as they walked, feeling the alcoholic heat already radiating off him. “How long has it been since you’ve gotten drunk, Tonny?”

“ _Ø_ …” he began, remembering his childhood friend's wedding. “Too long ... ” he mumbled as Will shook his head, having no idea what all these guttural noises meant. Once inside the bathroom, Will pushed Tonny in front of the urinals and held his shoulder to steady him as he swayed with the effort of trying to unzip his jeans. _“Fuck,”_ he whispered in a half-laugh, tipping his head back, finally relieving himself.

“Hey!” snapped a disgusted Will, trying to avoid getting his pants and shoes sprayed with urine. Will’s eyes wandered up the wall, not sure where he was supposed to be looking when in a bathroom trying to help another man not piss all over himself. Taped all along the wall above the urinals were comic strips of varying ages, colors, and degrees of perversion.

Will temporarily focused on one particular comic, hoping to not inadvertently glimpse anything he wasn't supposed to see, but when it ended with a sexual innuendo implying that Robin should expose himself to the supervillain, Will decided to avert his attention to the filthy tiles on the floor instead.  

Once Tonny finished and zipped up, he faltered backward, turning towards the door. “Hey,” reminded Will, motioning to the sink, assuming he’d want to wash his hands. Tonny nodded but stumbled forward, crashing into the sink. He recoiled with a shout, crumpling to the floor by the sink, laughing at his drunken feet and Will's disgusted face. He refused to stand back up, instead leaning back on the metal toilet partition next to the sink.  _“Shit,”_ he hissed through laughter, holding his aching hip.

"What’s so funny?" asked Will, beginning to chuckle himself. He looked down at Tonny with a strange sense of mirth since he had yet to see the man laugh this much in such a short amount of time.

“I dunno,” he claimed through more laughter. “I’m fucked …” he slurred. “I’m total fuck up,” his subconscious continued and he paused to reassess his words. 

Will’s amusement subsided and he narrowed his eyes. “You … you aren't a total fuck up, Tonny,” he said, staring down at him on the floor.

“Well, you ... you do not _know_ me.” He slowed his speech attempting not to slur. Suddenly his face grew tight, his forehead wrinkling as he suppressed a soreness permeating his throat and lungs and he choked back a sob that threatened to escape. Regaining composure, he scoffed at the whole situation, tipping his head back to touch the cold metal wall behind him and he closed his eyes.

Will stood over Tonny, holding out his hand. “I think maybe we should go.”

Tonny sniffed his nose and finally opened his eyes, staring up at Will. He grabbed Will’s forearm and he hoisted him up, helping the still stumbling man to the bar to pay for their drinks before heading out to the parking lot.

* * *

Back at the farmhouse, Will flopped Tonny, now mumbling to himself, on the couch next to Layla who held Aksel, fast asleep. “You guys are back early. It’s not even nine yet,” she whispered, glancing at her phone’s clock.

Will nodded towards Tonny. “The man can’t hold his liquor.” He smiled wryly, feeling relieved to be home, and he waited for Tonny's eyes to snap up to defend himself.

“Fuck. You,” he cursed. He flipped him off before his hands returned to pressing against his bruised hip.

“Stay here. I'll be right back,” said Will and hurried up the steps behind the couch. He barged into Tonny’s bedroom to collapse Aksel’s playpen and drag it down the hall to his room where he set it back up, tossing in a blanket and pacifier.

Back downstairs, Tonny had laid down on the couch, forcing Layla to stand with Aksel. “What did you guys drink? Fucking gasoline? And why do you both smell like a truck-stop bathroom?” she whispered to Will as he came down the steps.

Will quietly laughed and motioned to Tonny. “He had seven shots in about thirty minutes. Then he pissed on my shoes and was floored by a bathroom sink.” Will took Aksel from Layla, who was now laughing under her breath. He thanked her profusely for staying so late and they said their goodbyes. Will hurriedly took Aksel to his room and tucked him in before returning to the pile of Tonny still on the couch. “Come on, you idiot,” he said, hoisting him up. They ascended the stairs together before Will practically tossed him in his room. “‘Night,” he announced, closing the door behind him.

“Jesus christ,” he sighed to himself, standing in the dark hallway. He rubbed his forehead and rolled his eyes at no one. _So this is what it’s like to do normal things with a normal friend? It's an anxiety ridden clusterfuck? No fucking thanks._ ,  

Back in his own room he checked on the sleeping baby and disrobed down to his tee-shirt and boxers before heading down the hall towards the bathroom, still reeling over his friend’s irresponsible behavior. He suddenly heard a thud and a swish from Tonny’s room.

Will crept over and listened through the door. “Tonny? You ok?” he asked, quietly rapping on his door. Deciding that he better check on him, lest he choke on his own vomit, he slowly opened the door and peered inside.

Tonny was slumped on the floor, knees bent up with his back against the side of the bed. The table lamp was on, but it was gently rocking on its side next to the bed on the floor. The contents of a glass of water glistened under the upturned lamp. Tonny sat still, studying his hands.

Will slowly entered the unkempt bedroom but remained near the doorway taking in the silent scene before him. Tonny looked like a grotesque caricature under that harsh lighting from the tipped lamp. He looked broken and dejected. Will slowly crept in and righted the lamp and water glass, sopping up the water with a towel before he calmly sat on the bed next to Tonny who still sat unmoving on the floor.

There was a long pause as Will listened to the man slowly breath until Tonny finally spoke. “I can not drink,” he admitted. “The last time … I make very bad ..." He trailed off, unable to find the correct word.

Will looked at the lit side of his face. “Are you ok?” He wanted to reach out and turn Tonny’s head to look at him – to really look at him in this state – but he thought better of it.

“No,” Tonny said, after a gut-wrenchingly long pause in the almost near darkness. “I don’t get to be ok.” He sniffed and wiped his nose with the back of his hand. “I know things that were ok when I was boy but … I don’t want to be like my father.” He choked on the words and swallowed hard, remembering the last time he saw his old man berating him in the garage office.

Tonny slowly tipped his head to the right, just far enough to lay his temple on Will’s bare knee. Will quietly inhaled at the unexpected contact. Tonny’s skin was both hot and wet with perspiration and he trembled slightly. He was crying and Will wanted to comfort him, but he looked so vulnerable in this state, despite his outward appearance of overhyped criminal masculinity. Should he touch him? What if he broke him like a dropped teacup, leaving him a mess of shattered pieces on the bedroom floor. Will feared that the heat he knew to be seeping from Tonny's skin might be too welcomed by his cool fingers. He feared what he knew could not be undone. 

But Will, already shaky and restless from their evening out, selfishly sought the comfort of warm skin to steady his own trembling fingers, and he hesitantly reached towards Tonny, stroking his neck with his fingertips. “It’s ok, Tonny,” he whispered. His voice was breathy and barely audible and he hoped Tonny would remember none of this in the morning.

Tonny stuttered a slight gasp at the touch and leaned harder onto Will’s knee until he began quietly sobbing into his hand.

Will clearing his throat and repeated himself, continuing to brush Tonny’s bare neck. “You’re ok, right?” he asked, lightly tracing where he remembered his tattoo had been. He ran his fingers through the short hair above Tonny's neck and was still taken aback by the alcohol-induced fire that radiated off him. His skin burned with an intensity that entranced Will, and he stared at his own hand, combing through Tonny's hair. Should he be touching him like this? This couldn't be socially acceptable. At any moment Will expected Tonny to sit up and punch him the teeth, but he didn't. He seemed to be relaxing. They were both relaxing.

A deep, whiskey-tinged sigh, exhaled from Tonny's lips and he wrapped his hand around Will’s calf. He turned to press his mouth against Will’s thigh, his eyes closed, and he softly sobbed into Will's leg until his body gave up and collapsed, burnt out though unbroken on the floor.

* * *

Will awoke to Aksel fussing in his crib having completely forgotten the baby was asleep in his room. His mind was suddenly flooded with memories of his strangely intimate encounter with Tonny in the man's bedroom just hours before. He glanced at his bedside clock - three thirty. Rubbing his eyes, he carefully picked up the crying child, shushing him and gently bouncing him in his arms. Will cradled the boy in his knit blanket as he crept down the hall, sneaking over piles of sleeping fur, and past the open, but darkened doorway of Tonny’s room. He meandered downstairs to the kitchen and fixed Aksel a bottle of warm formula before returning upstairs. 

He pulled up the shades in his cool dark bedroom, allowing the moonlight to fill his room and reclined against his headboard with the fussy, hungry baby. Aksel rooted for the bottle and before long was busy sucking down his midnight snack. Will smiled, peering down at the sleepy baby, gulping and whimpering in his arms. He delicately trailed his fingers across the baby's soft cheeks as he drank, feeling a warmth blooming in his chest. 

This child – this infant with absolutely no relation to Will whatsoever – had completely captivated the man's heart. It had been only four meager weeks since the pair had moved in, but to Will, it felt like a lifetime. Thinking back to his life before Aksel seemed distant and confusing; he wondered what he did in his spare time before he had this enchanting child to dote upon. Will now spent his evenings taking Aksel on long walks around the property, pointing out the owls nesting in the barn and the cows that would wander over as they approached. He took him back to the pond, listening to the crunching of dry grasses underfoot and to the edge of the bubbling stream where he fished. He fed Aksel when Tonny was too busy with his farm work, and he bathed the child before bed when his father was already passed out on the couch. 

As Aksel's sucking eventually slowed, becoming satiated and settled, the nipple dropped from his mouth. Will took this quiet opportunity to study the baby’s tiny features. His little lips mirrored his father’s and they pouted as he slept, occasionally sucking on his tiny pink tongue. Will had never really found himself associating much with children. It was often a chaotic and overwhelming experience for him, but he was finding that the tender moments one shared with them seemed to overpower that all-consuming feeling of exhaustion. He loved having Aksel here in his home, and after laying the baby back in his crib, he thought long and ardently about his own life and if it was too late for him to have a biological family. As he drifted off, his thoughts wandered to the dark obsessive corners of his mind where Abigail, the daughter of the man he killed, still lived, trapped in an unsettling cage of blood and antlers. He shuddered, his mind plunging into an otherworldly realm as he grew colder, falling into the darkness of sleep.


	12. The Compass of my Curse

He didn’t want that much – just enough for a couple days. It would probably last him a week, to be honest. He knew how to make it last. It was just to take the edge off and that was it. He had plenty of alcohol at his disposal now for the rest of the time. This feeling, this inability to cope with everything around him, was a problem that he knew how to correct, and Tonny had decided it was better to give in than try to fight it and lose. Losing meant binging when he'd get the opportunity and he did not want to do that again – not to Will. It’s not even like it was a big deal. It was just a quick trip to town. Will wouldn’t care, no one would know, and the whole situation would be so much easier to bear.

Tonny slowly entered the kitchen bouncing Aksel in his arms. “Can I borrow the truck?” he casually asked Will.

Will looked up from his new laptop on the island. “Yeah, sure ... But you don’t have a driver’s license. I can drive you somewhere if you need me to.” Will had been meaning to help Tonny get a license, but he had never seemed interested in leaving the house, until now. “Where do you need to go?” he asked, wondering about his sudden desire to leave ... alone.

Tonny shook his head as if to drop the whole exchange. “It's okay if you don't want me to go.” He turned and was about to leave, brainstorming ways in which he could convince Layla to take him somewhere, when Will told him to stop, tossing him the keys.

“I don’t care Tonny, just fill it up before you come home,” he said, pulling out a few twenties and leaning over to hand them to him. “How long are you going to be gone?”

Tonny nervously accepted the money and pocketed it. “An hour or two. I’m taking Aksel,” he responded, swallowing hard to clear his voice of hesitation.

“Where are you going?” he asked, looking back at his computer.

“Just in town,” he answered ambiguously and stepped towards the doorway. “Thanks.” He held up the keys and nodded, truly appreciating the fact that Will didn’t continue his questioning. He was already partially hesitant to go and ashamed of himself. He didn’t need to pile on the guilt brought on my Will’s ridiculously sad and lonely face.

Tonny left without any more words and Will was left to his own imagination, wondering where he was going so secretly. Deciding that the man deserved privacy, Will attempted to forget their entire exchange with little success. _Tonny wouldn’t do anything dangerous like getting drunk and driving home, not with Aksel_ , he surmised, feeling eighty-five percent sure that he was correct in that assumption. Well, maybe seventy-five percent, but it was still fairly high.

Over the last few days, Will felt like Tonny was really warming up to his new life here. It had been over a month since he moved in and they were sharing casual conversations over dinner, pleasantries outside working, and Will was really enjoying his time in the evenings with Aksel. He was such a warm and loving child, but he did cause Will to feel particularly heartsick about his own loveless and childless situation. Will could always live vicariously through others but that was hardly acceptable in the long run.

And then there was Tonny, the enigma. Will couldn’t wrap his mind around Tonny’s story, hell, he wasn’t even certain where he physically came from. He knew Tonny lied to him fairly consistently, and he knew of his rough and unpleasant past, but coaxing anything else from him was a near impossible task, though Will was enjoying the challenge. For some unknown reason, he felt a strange connection to Tonny, sort of like he was acting as the man’s mentor – but more than that. Tonny made him feel strangely irresponsible and spontaneous and brought back memories of youth. Of course, not _Will’s_ youth, but probably some other more adventurous thirty-four-year-old’s youth.

Will huffed and exhausted sigh, deciding to try to nap on the couch until they got back. He had nothing better to do than to wait for Tonny and Aksel to return, so that's what he planned to do.

* * *

Tonny strapped in a sleepy Aksel and tucked his blanket around the edges of the baby. He berated himself as he started the truck and pulled out of the driveway, feeling like he was lying to Will. He had decided days ago that he couldn’t have this strange and uncomfortable domestic life with Will any longer. The friendly banter, the meals together, and the idle chit-chat was wearing on him. He wasn’t used to living like this, having expectations placed on him. Finally being sober, he was disgusted by the fact that he truly hated himself. When he was high he never had to think about the worthless person he was. He always just felt mildly good. He was more in control of his emotions and his reactions when high, so he was determined to get that high back. Even if he only used for a couple weeks, it would be worth it just to feel that way again. He was stressed, after all. No one would begrudge him this simple pleasure. It was the least anyone could allow him. Tonny nodded, agreeing with his own justification. And fuck, it was only coke.

He swallowed back the knowledge that deep, deep down he was also lying to himself and not just Will. But that lie would ultimately lead him where his uncontrollable compulsion insisted, and getting that feeling off his back was beginning to take priority.  

* * *

Two hours. Will stared at the clock on the wall. Tonny had left two hours ago and had still not returned. He was wondering at what point he should worry. Tonny didn’t even have a cell phone. _What if the truck broke down again? What if they ran out of gas? The tank is getting low._ Will’s mind was racing in an attempt to figure out how far they could have gone in two hours, what major roads they would have taken, and cursed himself for not having a recent photo of Tonny. His phone was full of pictures of Aksel, but how would he even describe Tonny to the police? He had a fleeting thought of talking to the police about Tonny and showing them a picture of Hannibal from twenty years ago.

 _Hannibal_ , he thought again. He picked up his phone and automatically dialed, listening apprehensively to the buzzing ring on the other end.

 _“Hello?”_ asked Hannibal, and Will sunk back into the couch, relieved.

“Hello. It’s ... Will,” he said, closing his eyes to fully appreciate Hannibal’s voice.

 _“Will, what a pleasant surprise. To what do I owe the pleasure?”_ he asked. Will could hear clinking and shuffling in the background.

“I hope I’m not disturbing you,” he said, feeling a slight guilt over his intrusion.

 _“Not at all. I'm just enjoying a little culinary excursion.”_ Will could hear Hannibal smiling as he spoke, and it brought a strange feeling of serenity to him.

“I’m not really sure why I called,” he confessed. He really had nothing to share and he was suddenly feeling like an idiot.

_“That’s ok, Will. Did something happen?”_

“Not really. My farm hand, uh, Tonny ... took Aksel in my truck and they were supposed to be back … possibly an hour ago, and they still aren’t. I don’t know. I’m just anxious.”

 _“Is there a reason for your anxiety? Is this not something he's done before?”_ asked Hannibal, assessing Will’s potential justification.

“Um, no. I mean he’s never taken my truck, but I don’t really know why I’m panicking. I think I just need some reassurance. I’ve never felt responsible for other human beings before and since they live here, I feel like I need to know where they are at all times.”

 _“Did Tonny not say where he was going?”_ he asked, surprised.

“No. He was oddly unforthcoming about that,” said Will, furrowing his eyebrows at the thought.

 _“Do you have reason to believe he might go somewhere dangerous with his son?”_  

“I don’t think so. I can’t even imagine a place you would take a baby but not feel comfortable admitting to going to,” said Will, shaking his head in confusion.

There was a long pause on the other end of the line and Will was beginning to grow concerned. _“Do you think, perhaps, you're overreacting?”_  said Hannibal, chuckling slightly.

“Never!” joked Will. He felt himself calming down at the sound of Hannibal’s laugh. “You know me, Hannibal, overreacting is just not something I do. Overthinking, panicking, becoming obsessively frantic over minute transgressions … not me at all,” he said, smiling.

Hannibal chuckled again. _“Well it is good to hear you recognize your own irrationality.”_

“Irrationality ...” Will repeated back, reflectively. “I have been dealing with a lot of that lately. Not just with this situation tonight but in other ways. I feel like I’m unconsciously obsessing over the strangest things.”

 _“Oh?_ _Care to elaborate?”_

Will was not sure if elaborating was in his best interest. Having to admit his obsessions included Tonny and Aksel was not something his subconscious was ready to share, at least not aloud. “I’ve been thinking a lot about having kids, and as an extension of that, being in a relationship. I think having Aksel in the house has me wondering if I'm even capable of being a good father.”

 _“You are very good with Abigail, Will,”_ began Hannibal. _“You are supportive and generous to her. You're respectful of her thoughts and questions. You are a very loving figure to her and I know she appreciates that. I don’t think you need to worry about yourself. You have always been gentle and affectionate towards children.”_ He paused when he heard Will sigh before continuing, _“You are a wonderful father figure to Abigail and I'm certain you will be a doting father to your own children one day.”_

Will was taken aback by Hannibal’s comments. He didn’t feel like he was doing anything for Abigail other than providing her a shoulder and an ear, but he was genuinely touched by Hannibal’s assessment of him as a potential father.

 _“Will?”_ asked Hannibal, after the long pause.

“Um, thank you … for saying that,” he said, stumbling over his gratitude.

_“None of it isn’t true, Will. You tend to denigrate yourself. I hate to hear you do it, as you're a wonderful man and a dear friend.”_

“Thank you,” he said again, realizing how obvious it was to others just how hard he was on himself. “I don’t really mean to be compulsively negative about myself or others, but my mental state has me constantly questioning why I do or think anything anymore. I feel so lost in my own head. I know I often want to be in a stable relationship with someone, but when I imagine myself attempting to open up to another, I just can’t. I can’t see it happening.”

 _“You open up to me, Will,”_  reminded Hannibal, _“Quite easily in fact.”_

“You're my therapist though.”

 _“Yes, but a significant other should also allow you to be yourself, Will. They should allow you to bare your deepest darkest self and still accept you. They should share your burdens and celebrate your idiosyncrasies,”_ he assured, _“Do you not think that is the case in a mutually respectful relationship?”_

“I’ve never really thought about it. I just figured my burdens would be too much for anyone to handle considering I struggle with them so much myself,” he sighed. “I feel like it would be unfair to unload them onto someone else, especially someone I’m supposed to care about.”

“ _If the person truly cares about you, Will, they will welcome those burdens and explore them with you_ ,” said Hannibal. _“Maybe you just haven’t decided what you need from another person. Relationships are complicated for everyone. Perhaps you simply need a sympathetic ear right now,”_ he suggested.

“Well, I have you for that,” blurted Will, chuckling.

 _“I suppose you do,”_ he said back.

“I was thinking more like … nevermind.” Will reddened immediately, regretting the thought.

 _“What, Will?”_  

Will paused mulling over his phrasing before speaking. “I don’t know. I feel like I’m desiring less of an emotional connection with someone and more of a ... physical connection,” he shared.

“ _Ah_ ,” said Hannibal, now understanding.

“Any advice?” he asked, jokingly.

 _“I think you may be on your own there, Will,”_ laughed Hannibal and Will chuckled in response. _“However, I will say that to avoid unnecessarily complicated emotional dependency, you may want to seek out ... self-gratification until you are comfortable sharing your psychological identity with another,”_ he said as bluntly as he was willing. _“I could see how someone like yourself, with a seemingly limitless amount of empathy, might be overwhelmed in a strictly physical relationship. I would suggest treading carefully here, Will. I would hate to see you needlessly hurt.”_

Will couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed with Hannibal’s suggestion – self-gratification – but he understood the conclusion he was drawing. He was mentally overwhelmed already. The thought of being sexual with another person obviously brought to him a sense of excitement, but also a deep-seated apprehension that tended to make him panic when placed in a sexual situation. It was painful to think about the neurological strain a physical relationship would cause him, despite his physiological needs. _Maybe Hannibal is right_ , he concluded.

“You have given me a lot to think about, Hannibal. I appreciate your ... candor,” he chuckled.

_“Of course, Will.”_

“As much as I've enjoyed our chat, I should probably go back to sitting here in the dark, worrying,” said Will, staring at the clock again.

Hannibal chuckled.  _“If that is what you wish to do, I won’t stop you, but I’m sure they're fine, Will. I don’t have a problem continuing to talk until he returns if you need me to.”_

“No. It’s getting late. I should probably just go to bed and let you do the same,” he sighed. “We can continue this later in the week.”

 _“You're welcome to call me anytime, Will. Please don’t hesitate. I'm here for you,”_ promised Hannibal.

“Thank you, Hannibal. I truly appreciate that,” said Will and they said their goodbyes.

* * *

“Hey,” whispered Tonny, peering over the rail of the steps at Will who was still laying on the couch. Will jumped up, rubbing his face. It was eleven at night, five hours since he'd left, and Tonny was shocked to find Will still awake. He'd been hoping to sneak past Will to avoid questions until he saw him tossing in an attempt to fall asleep. He figured he should say _something_ so Will would at least know they were home.

“And where the hell were you?” snapped Will, rounding the couch towards the stairs.

Tonny recoiled up a step at Will’s biting tone, reluctant to answer him. “I-I was out. Sorry,” he answered, hoping to placate Will’s obvious irritation.

“What the _fuck_ , Tonny? You can’t just leave with Aksel for that long without telling someone where you're going. How was I supposed to know you weren't in a car accident? You don’t even have a phone ... or a license! Jesus,” he ranted, hoping to justify his worry by making Tonny feel guilty.

Tonny, however, wasn’t feeling _guilty_. His nostrils flared and his skin grew hot as he rapidly became enraged by Will's assumption that he was owed an explanation. Aksel wasn't Will's son. He had no right to question what he did with his own kid. This patronizing barrage of questions and insults spewing from Will felt an awful lot like he was being scolded like a bratty teenager. “Why can’t I leave, Will? Am I a fucking prisoner here?” His face reddened and the cocaine was burning a hole in his pocket. He fingered the bag in his hoodie to calm down.

“No. God no,” began Will, scoffing at Tonny's implication. “But you were in my truck – _my_ truck – Tonny, breaking the law. And it’s late and thirty degrees out. You have a five-month-old with you! Did you remember that? Your son?!”

This condescending tone was exactly what Tonny had lived with his entire life. He had been treated like a useless liability since he could remember, and he couldn't take it anymore. “Fuck off, Will,” he snapped, throwing the keys to the truck on the couch below him. “Am I your fucking kid now?”

Will grit his teeth. “Well, you don't act like a goddamn adult! You have a _child_ , Tonny. You can't drive him all over hell and back in the middle of the fucking night! Especially not in _my_ truck without a license! And what the hell were you doing anyway?”

Something cracked deep inside Tonny. His pulse raced and he felt the heat of adrenaline coursing through his body. It felt like a large capsule in the back of his neck snapping open and dripping liquid fury down his spine. He clenched his free fist, his fingernails biting into his palm and swallowed back his bitter exasperation in an attempt to avoid becoming violent. Will stepped back, witnessing a madness envelope the man's body. Tonny suddenly descended the steps, slowly and deliberately, chewing his tongue, his neck stiff and unmoving. He stepped up to Will and dropped Aksel in his arms, before turning and bounding up the stairs, slamming his bedroom door behind him.

Will now stood alone in the middle of the living room, Aksel cooing in his arms, afraid to even look up the steps or listen for any crashing coming from Tonny's room. All was silent. He stared down at the baby. Aksel was chewing on his blanket and Will could smell cigarette smoke emanating from every fiber of his clothing. He didn't appear hungry, but his clothes were wet around the neck from a leaky bottle and he obviously needed to be changed. He wasn’t quite sure where they had been or what had just happened, but he had a vague and somewhat alarming idea.


	13. Ravish a Maid

Will sat in a chair by the front door, pulling on his boots. “I’ll probably get back after midnight if I don’t get a room somewhere. It’s a long drive to make alone.” He cringed not knowing why he phrased it like that. He wasn't looking for sympathy, he was just trying to make conversation. They hadn't said much of anything to one another over the last few days and while it was bothering Will, Tonny didn't appear to care. 

Tonny rubbed his exhausted red eyes. “Do you ... want me to go?” he asked, feeling pressure to say something now. Will had woken him up at four thirty that morning to give him details about his trip and now it sounded like he wanted him to go along.

“Oh no. I don’t know why I said that. You just hold down the fort, ok? I trust you,” said Will, straining a smile. He grabbed his coat, flipping on the porch light and headed out to his packed and loaded truck. Tonny felt like an idiot. His fight with Will several nights ago was still at the forefront of his mind and it was affecting everything he did. He was barely speaking to anyone, he was drinking a lot, and hardly eating. He had woken up the morning after alone, having polished off a bottle of scotch he'd stolen from Will’s kitchen. Will had slept with Aksel in his bed, yet again, and Tonny was unsure how to feel about his own behavior. Will was still being kind and generous while he was emotional, grief-stricken, and sinking into despair. The coke was still untouched and Tonny fought with himself over why he didn’t just do the whole bag that night.

Tonny watched Will’s tailights pull out and away from the house into the darkness. The cows needed to be milked in an hour, so there was no point to going back to bed. He fixed a bowl of cereal and went to check on Aksel, still passed out in his crib. He pulled on his work clothes from yesterday and headed downstairs to wait for Layla in the darkness of the empty house.

The farmhouse was freezing cold. It was getting more frigid each passing January morning, but since Will hadn’t made a fire before he left, this morning felt particularly bone-chilling. Tonny sighed with resignation as his stupor on the couch was interrupted by his new obligations, and he headed to the back porch for wood. He started a fire, something Will had taught him to do properly, and for some reason, he vividly recalled that lesson. He had felt like such a useless dumbass, a stupid little punk who couldn’t even light a fire. His freezing fingers ached as he rolled another log on the catching fire. The cocaine was just upstairs and he gritted his teeth, looking up the steps. He couldn’t. He thought about Aksel. He wanted to stay sober, but he questioned his restraint. _Why did I bring it in the house?_

By the time Layla arrived, the fire was blazing and already warming the first floor. “‘Morning, Tonny,” she chimed before clearing her throat. “It’s fucking cold as shit out there.” She piled her coat, hat, and gloves on the chair by the door and joined Tonny by the fire. “He’s still asleep?” she asked, looking up the steps, and Tonny nodded, still staring at the fire. “So Will’s gone all day then?” Another nod from Tonny. “What're you doing for dinner?”

Tonny looked at her puzzled. “Nothing,” he said sighing. What kind of ridiculous task was she going to require of him now?

“You want to come to my parent’s house with Aksel? They want to meet the little man. They've been asking for fucking weeks. Please, please say yes...”

“Oh,” he said pausing. "Okay.” Tonny half-heartedly smiled and resumed his contemplative staring into the fire, wondering if this wasn’t a good enough excuse to do a line. It might make him more personable, or certainly more entertaining.

“You ok? You aren’t your usual _chipper_ self,” joked Layla, throwing a pillow from the couch at Tonny’s head.

He caught it right before it bounced into the fire. “I'm fine. Tired,” he said, tossing the pillow back to the couch. A shrill wail filled the upstairs, drifting down the staircase. Tonny started towards the stairs before Layla stopped him.

“I’ll get him.” She smiled and bounded up the stairs to retrieve the baby. She returned a few moments later bouncing a now calm little boy on her hip and headed to the kitchen. She winked at Tonny as she passed through the living room and Tonny grimaced to himself, not liking where this unwanted attention was going. Dinner, meeting Layla’s parents, her desire to be with Aksel all the time … Tonny wanted to blend into the background, not be doted on and forced to interact with others. _Dinner with her is a bad fucking idea_ , he thought.

“Are you doing the cows this morning?” she shouted from the kitchen.

His thoughts were interrupted and he was reminded of all the shit he had to do with Will being gone. “Yeah, I am going out now,” he said from the couch where he was forcing on his boots. He grabbed his coat and trudged out the front door letting it slam behind him.

* * *

It was late morning before Tonny came back inside to warm up. Layla had made him more coffee. He stared at the pot remembering her particular friendliness from earlier and wondered if it was drugged. He snickered to himself, deciding to risk it, and fixed a cup heaping with sugar. He was hoping it would wake him up enough to not feel like he was about to lose his shit at any time. Layla had taken Aksel out to the stables, so the house was empty save the half dozen dogs roaming or dozing about. He meandered to the couch, sipping his coffee and his thoughts wandered back through a closed door in his mind that held his old life in Copenhagen. As much as it pained him to think of it, he missed it. It was a life he had grown up in, and despite the obvious risks, it was still a comforting life. But, he always mused, no one really cared about him, and if that’s the case, then what’s the point of reliving it in his mind? When he left the city, he didn’t even have a home. His mother was dead. His father, he assumed, was dead – he'd looked pretty dead to him at the time. His only real comfort there came from whatever he could find to snort. Having to live through these long and painful days on this farm in the middle of nowhere made him realize that he would return to his old life in a heartbeat if it weren’t half a world away. When he had first arrived, he felt too ashamed, too humiliated and indebted to Will to bring that life here, but now he was just a room away from that blissful confidence he so desperately desired.

There were many nights that Tonny laid awake in bed contemplating reasons to leave. He always ended those churning thoughts with the decision that today was not the day to decide. So then, no day would be the day, and he would grit his teeth in agony at never knowing what to do next. In Copenhagen, he needed to keep himself alive. Here he had to live, and hopefully provide his son the opportunity to flourish, something he, as a child, was denied in Denmark.

By the time he took his second sip of coffee, it was cold and bitter despite the sugar. He was sitting on the couch staring at the dying fire, deciding if anything was worth the effort of doing it if you knew nothing would ultimately change for the better.

Layla broke him of his rumination when she leaned over the back of the couch to talk.She gasped, taking Tonny’s chin in her hand. “What happened to your lip?”

“Oh, the ax handle ...,” he confessed, only now noticing the pain or even remembering the accident. “It hit me in the mouth.”

“Ouch!” Layla grimaced, inspecting the gash for a second before releasing his chin and heading to the kitchen. “I just got your little sweetheart down for a nap,” she called from the kitchen doorway. “How long have you been sitting there, Tonny? Have you had anything for lunch?” Tonny just looked towards her puzzled. “It’s noon,” she explained.

It was not at all surprising that he had sat for two hours pitying himself. “No. Not yet,” he replied getting up to join her.

In the kitchen, Layla was busy making sandwiches for the two of them, so Tonny sat down at the island. She set a plate down in front of him and ran her hand up his arm and over his shoulders as she walked behind him. He immediately tensed at her touch. “Should I put another pot on or are you good?” she asked, pointing to his mug filled with cold coffee. Tonny shrugged his indifference so Layla got them both glasses of water. He was suspicious of her bizarre obsession with his comfort. It made him question her motives for this weird dinner with her parents later.

They ate quickly and in relative silence, though Layla kept smiling at Tonny who furrowed his eyebrows back at her. “Thinking of a joke, Layla?” he finally asked, hoping to end this embarrassing situation.

Layla laughed, “Um, maybe? I don’t know how to answer that ...” she said, still giggling. Tonny raised his eyebrows. “I was thinking that we are basically _alooone_ right now,” she said, drawing out the _o_ in _alone_ and giving him a coy grin. Tonny bared his teeth in a nervous smile and nodded his head. _Oh fuck_ , he said to himself, sighing with annoyance.

“Well, sort of alone,” he reminded, nodding upstairs. He stood and went to the sink to dump his plate and wash his hands. Layla snuck up behind him and slid her hands down his thighs. He grimaced and turned himself around as she pressed her body against him, forcing him back against the counter. “What are you doing?” he asked, narrowing his eyes at her, as she snaked her hands up his back.

“I’m bored. You're incredibly _sexy_ … thought maybe we could do something.” She continued, smiling at him until she pressed her lips against his neck. Tonny was not entirely against her idea but he felt very uneasy about her and him fucking in Will’s house, especially when Tonny was already frustrated with himself and on thin ice with Will. Will and he hadn't discussed these types of situations though Tonny smiled to himself at what that conversation would sound like. He enjoyed flustering Will, he blushed at the mention of basically anything sexual.

“Come on,” she ordered, leading him back into the living room. He complied simply because he couldn’t think of any way to avoid it. She casually unzipped his jeans before pushing him down on the couch. “I’ll avoid your lip,” she whispered, straddling his lap to continue kissing his neck. Tonny closed his eyes, trying to enjoy the moment. His mind wandered through other painful sexual experiences, memories that felt like a lifetime ago. He accidentally bit his lip, sending a sharp jolt of pain up his cheeks.

Layla slid backward off his lap and onto the floor between his knees, working his jeans open and halfway down his thighs. She pulled and fumbled at his boxers, lecherously glancing up at him. Tonny kept his eyes closed and tilted his head back on the couch, trying to not imagine anything that could distract him from the moment. Pure sensation, that would work. He figured he would focus on getting off, and hope it was all over soon. However, his attempt at clearing his mind was failing miserably. He had the cell number of the dealer he'd met in town burned into his mind and he focused on the frayed edge of the torn receipt and the smudged pen hastily scribbled across it. Thankfully, he at least had a cell phone now. Will had seen to that they day after he’d come home late. He was silently doing the math in his head, wondering how much coke he could afford by the time Will had given him his cash for the week. He tried to imagine anyone else on the floor, anyone but Layla. He could only come up with Will, so he pushed that image so far back in his mind that he physically shook his head.

“Feeling … _shy?”_ asked Layla, breaking his concentration. She was cocking her head to the side as Tonny opened his eyes and looked down at her.

“I’m not … I just can’t …” he started before abandoning a lengthy and inadequate explanation. He took himself in his own hand, attempting to save himself from embarrassment. He moved his hand slowly over himself completely unmotivated to continue but trying nonetheless. His mind fell right back to the eightball of coke hidden behind his headboard. If he thought deep and hard enough, he could feel the bitter explosion in the back of his throat. He had a bottle of whiskey in his room too, he remembered. It was like the whiskey he and Will drank in the bar in town. He unconsciously smiled, remembering falling on his ass on the bathroom floor, Will laughing at him and taking his hand to help him up. Then a memory he didn’t quite recognize flashed in his mind. Sitting on the floor … he feels sick and exhausted, but he can feel his face against skin and his mind floods with the sensation of Will’s hand on the back of his neck.

“I can help if you want?” said Layla, kissing the fist in his lap, and it snapped him back to the unfortunate situation he was now in, still trying to figure out if his memory was real or a very confusing dream.

He released his grip and she took him in her mouth. She tried for several minutes before giving up, and she glanced up at Tonny’s emotionless face. “What the hell, man?” she accusingly said to him. “I seriously didn’t think you’d be a guy who couldn’t get it up.”

Tonny’s mind jumped and he remembered the whore house in Copenhagen after his second release from prison. He couldn’t get hard then either, and he had felt an intense sense of shame because of it. He felt the same embarrassment and disgust now, but it was for Layla, not himself, and his mind was wandering off again. _The coke_ , his mind whispered, _it’s just upstairs_. His stomach churned and he rubbed his forehead. “Maybe it’s you,” he muttered towards her in an attempt to save face, though he wasn’t really sure he cared anymore. _You aren’t nearly as attractive as you think you are_ , his subconscious muttered to Layla. _You're nothing like Frank, you bitchy little girl_ , and he held back a laugh at himself, obviously losing his mind.

“Um, what did you just say?!” Layla immediately stood up. “Seriously, what? _Maybe it’s me?!”_ She waited for a response but Tonny refused to give her one. “Oh my fucking god.” Just as she started to adjust her clothing, a wail erupted from the second floor. “For fuck’s sake,” she muttered and she flopped down on the far end of the couch, picking up a magazine. “You can deal with that, floppy,” she said, pretending to be engrossed in an article about fly fishing.

Tonny tucked himself back in his pants and bounded up the steps to his room. Aksel was already sitting up in his crib. “Hey, hey, shhh, Akseldrengen,” he softly hummed, picking up the crying boy. He settled him before taking him downstairs.

Layla had gone somewhere by the time he returned, and Tonny was grateful for that. This whole day was fucked up now. He sat on the floor in front of the fire with Aksel, helping him sit up in a semicircle of pillows just like he'd seen Will do earlier in the week. “Do you want a toy?” he offered, before handing him a plastic chain which Aksel immediately stuck in his toothless, grinning mouth. The boy was entranced by the dancing, spitting fire so Tonny threw on another log. “Det er brand," he said. "It's fire." Though somewhat edgy and anxious from his earlier ordeal with Layla, he somehow felt like he was thinking clearer than he had in weeks.

Layla appeared suddenly, fully dressed in her winter gear. “Are you even still coming tonight?” she huffed. “Because I still want to take him.” She motioned to Aksel, cooing on the floor.

“He can go. But, no,” declared Tonny, “I’m not going to go.”

“Well, he’s six months old now and my mom’s making mashed potatoes and crap so he can eat real food,” she said. “Do you want to see that? It’s a first for him.” She waited impatiently and finally shook her head, scoffing at the blank look on Tonny’s face. “Do you even care at all?” 

“I’m fine.”

“Father of the year right here,” she whispered, still disgusted. “Well, I’m taking him now. Do you know where the diaper bag is?” She was searching the living room, scoffing at every word and gesture from Tonny.

“Shit …” sighed Tonny, rubbing his neck. “It's in the truck.”

“Perfect,” said Layla, rolling her eyes.

Tonny held up his finger before bounding up the stairs, over sleeping dogs, and into his room. He searched the closet for anything bag-like but came up empty-handed, so he went into Will’s room to scour it for something usable. Digging around, he found a small duffel bag with _Purina_ written on the side which he filled with extra clothes for Aksel, a blanket, diapers, and a myriad of other baby items, basically clearing the top of Will's dresser. He eventually slid down the steps to Layla who was suiting up Aksel in his winter coat. “Here,” he said, handing her the bag.

“Whatever,” she said, rolling her eyes again and his rediculous dog bag. “My cousin is coming with her two kids so I’ll be staying there all evening. I’ll bring him back around eight or nine. Now that you’ve joined the twenty-first century, I’ll text you if I need anything.” She plopped Aksel on her hip and headed out the door without a goodbye, leaving Tonny alone in his apparent misery.


	14. Beg for Grace in Vain

It was the middle of the afternoon and Tonny was completely alone, except for, of course, the dozen furry dogs continually underfoot. He let them all out and put their food on the front porch before stoking the fire and heading back outside to burn off stress and finish up his farm work for the day.

The outside air was clearing his mind, making him feel somewhat better about the last twenty-four hours. He went about his chores automatically, his mind a chaotic mess of emotions. He was bothered by what had happened with Layla on the couch, but if he was being honest with himself, it wasn't as agitating as that memory of Will. That minuscule flash buried deep in his mind fascinated him.  _What the fuck was that?_ he asked himself.  _Is that what really happened that night?_ _Why was I on the floor? What was Will doing?_ He had no recollection of what they had done before or immediately after those few brief moments. He remembered waking up the next day, dazed and hungover, but there seemed to be nothing unusual about Will's behavior. Well, nothing odder than his normal behavior. He sighed in frustration before he laughed, remembering Frank. His own inner monolog was exactly what Frank would have called Layla, _a bitchy little girl_. He still had fond memories of his relationship with Frank despite the traumatic physical assault he'd endured. He knew why Frank had attacked him, so he’d never be able to blame him. It was simply how life worked back home. Tonny should have kept his mouth shut. He should have been more careful around the police. Frank was his friend, and he was fairly certain he still cared a great deal for him. Hell, it was Frank's buddy that got him out of Denmark, and he still owed him for that, if the man was still alive.

On his way back up to the house, he remembered the hastily-made mess he’d thrown all over Will’s bedroom when he cleared the man's closet for a bag. He better clean it up now before anyone got home, after all, he was alone and with nothing else to do, poking around Will's room might just be the interesting distraction he was looking for.

It was strange to him, people having such intimate shrines to themselves. He opened the door to Will’s room and was greeted by his familiar dog and spicy aftershave smell. Tonny had a bedroom when he was little but by the time he turned eleven, he was spending more time on couches and floors with his friends than with his mother, so his bedroom in her apartment was eventually turned into a storage room. He looked around the small space, which was relatively clean considering how many dogs were constantly crammed inside. Short bookshelves lining one corner and were piled with books, papers, file boxes, and small knickknacks. It didn’t feel cluttered but rather comfortable and lived in. His dresser was well utilized and the top was typically covered in baby items – diapers, Aksel's clothes, books – but most of that had been cleared when he filled his makeshift diaper bag. The bed was unmade, the sheets twisted and still damp with sweat from the nightmares Will silently endured alone. At night, Tonny could ofen hear his screams across the hall. He had yet to bring himself to ask about them since he struggled so ferociously to control his own demons. There was an uncluttered nightstand next to the bed where Will had forgotten his watch that morning and a floor lamp in the corner behind a small wooden, rocking chair piled with some old worn clothes. The floor was covered in dusty dog prints and, now, the contents of Will’s closet. Tonny scooped up the luggage and boots and other assorted items and piled them back on the floor of the closet. He walked to the door, turning to look back around the room again one final time. He felt he _should_ leave – after all, this was Will's private sanctuary that no one but Aksel was allowed into – but instead of leaving, he slowly closed the door behind him and leaned against it, staring blankly towards the high windows above the bed.

He sat on the edge of the mattress, instantly recognizing the muffled creak of the floorboards from Will tossing and turning all night. He really shouldn't be in here. Their bedrooms were the only private space they each had and this was an unwarranted invasion of that space. He rubbed his thighs nervously and laid back on the bed. It was firm but comfortable and he rolled to his side, blankly staring off into the room. He had no reason to be in there, and especially no reason to be in Will's bed, but just the act of laying in the space typically occupied by someone he knew well and trusted was reassuring, and his mind was relaxing because of it.

A worn flannel shirt was draped over the back of the rocking chair and he hesitated before gathering it and bringing it to his face – spicy hay and engine grease mixed with a dusty peat. His breath caught in his throat and he continued to rub his thigh with his free hand. He still shouldn't be in there but it was too comforting not to enjoy it while he could. This was probably the only opportunity he'd get to be in there and he even still had a realistic excuse if caught –  he was cleaning.

He rolled onto to his stomach, feeling the flannel on his cheek and still inhaling its spicy dusty scent. He closed his eyes and cleared his mind, attempting to float just above the anxiety he had felt throughout his entire life. A tension was growing in his gut and he lazily opened his eyes, realizing his hips were rocking into the mattress. With a sudden rush of panic, he sprung off the bed and scrambled out of the room, stopping only briefly to catch his breath as he stumbled into the hallway. What is he doing?! He was appalled with himself.

He quickly made his way to the bathroom where he piled his clothes on the floor before blasting himself in the shower with scalding water. He flinched at both the intense heat and his new embarrassing internal turmoil. This was rediculous. He should never have gone in there. With his eyes closed, he felt his body shudder alive with heated thoughts that masked his all-encompassing feelings of shame and guilt for having molested Will's bed. He rubbed his soapy hands through his hair and stood under the steaming water letting the lather and heat envelop his body. Unconsciously, or perhaps only mildly consciously, his fingers grazed down his stomach until he took himself in his hand, wanting desperately for everything to just feel acceptable, like life at the moment was tolerable and not the nightmare it was turning into. He wasn't running from the police. He wasn't the sole caretaker of a baby. He wasn't trapped on a farm in the middle of the US, alone and helpless. Layla hadn't tried to have sex with him and he wasn't finding excuses to take comfort in Will's musty sheets. 

He softly whimpered to himself, silently begging his mind to stay clear long enough to enjoy this meager reprieve, but the solitude of his empty mind slowly faded away as memories flickered and flashed behind his eyelids once again. He slowly stroked himself, his body growing hotter as his mind dulled with memories of his old life. He could feel groping hands pull and tug at his shirt as he and other street kids hid together, exploring each other, in the backseats of cars. Pants lowered and tongues lapped skin – licking, tasting, and biting at salty unwashed flesh. Heroin-induced confusion leading to rubbing and sweating and feeling a second, more experienced body loom above him like a ghostly saint.

Tonny tilted his head back under the stream of water as the tension in his shoulders lessened with each stroke. His mind fumbled back through more memories of driving around with Frank; the affectionate banter, the staring, and the touching they often shared. He could taste his rough and bitter lips that playfully pressed on his and hinted at their affection and solidarity with one another. His mind flickered with memories of long sleepless nights with all the boys crammed in Ø’s living room doing lines of coke, smoking, laughing, and finally falling asleep in sweaty shirtless piles together, skin hot and wet and restless. He would drink away inhibitions until he was leaned against frigid toilet stalls, a hot fumbling mouth wrapped around him or his own around a random stranger. Like he was watching a gritty film, he observed himself resting his lips on Will’s thigh, gripping his calf and smelling his skin, tasting it on his tongue as it mixed with his own salty alcohol-induced tears. He shuddered and gradually opened his eyes to stare at the shower wall in front of him, remembering.

He leaned forward, resting his forearm and head against the cold wet tiles. His breath was quickening and he stared down at his hand rapidly propelling him towards his goal. His eyes shut once again and he slipped back into memories as his orgasm became imminent. He recalled his first hot shower in this house; the peace of having his own bed and a safe space to sleep; waking up to someone quietly looking over him, repeating his name gently out of kindness and empathy. He remembered Will’s fingertips running along his neck with a touch so soothing it sent aching surges through his chest. He unceremoniously came at that last thought, his legs buckling, and he lowered himself to his knees onto the floor of the shower. The water had cooled slightly and it stung as it cascaded down the red and irritated flesh of his back. He didn't want to be here any more than he wanted to be anywhere. He could barely find excuses to wake up each morning, but for some reason, he was still drawn from his room. He still stood every day and made his way to the kitchen. He still bounded out the screen door to find Will in the barn to share a coffee and early morning banter. He still did this, every day, without fail, despite the gnawing disgust he had for himself that grew all the more powerful every night in his sleep. 

He silently sobbed with a strange and unfamiliar sense of comfort as the water grew icy, and his body began to shiver. Turning off the faucet, he sat back and stared into nothing, his eyes fogging as they refused to focus. He felt like a wounded animal, bleeding and trapped, but just moments away from the relief of death. He finally stood and stepped out of the tub to dry off with the last clean towel in the bathroom. He dropped the towel to the floor and stepped into the hallway, his mind still a mess of lightheaded confusion. The whole upstairs of the house was cruelly cold and he shivered as he reached for the knob to his bedroom door. Unable and unwilling to enter his own messy and depressing room to dress, he crept back down the hall to Will’s bedroom. What did it matter at this point? He had no shame or pride.

He inhaled deeply as he opened the door and immediately climbed back into Will's bed, laying on his stomach. He shifted over the twisted knots of fabric and slid his arms under the pillow before finally settling his head. This seemed to help. This seemed to make life a little more tolerable. He worked through his reasons and excuses as to why he had to be in there – why he had to feel this bed – and he blankly stared at Will's watch until his muddled and distracted mind exhausted itself to sleep.


	15. False Shadows for True Substances

“Come on guys,” said Will, opening the door to let in a mangy but excited mass of dogs. He hung up his coat and kicked off his soaked boots, glancing at the fireplace, relieved to find red coals still at the bottom. He poked it back to life and tossed on another log, hoping to relax in a nice warm living room after a hot shower. The day had not really gone as planned. Kneeling to the floor, he pet and jostled the scruffs of his brood of canines before heading to the kitchen to wash his hands. It wasn’t even dinnertime yet but the house seemed completely devoid of the human activity Will was slowly beginning to cherish. He wandered over to the counter and huffed, shaking his head as he picked up and tossed aside the folder he had forgotten to take with him. “What a waste,” he declared of his now pointless trip.

He filled a glass with water and trudged up to his room to gather fresh clothes before he washed away the stress of the day. He pushed in the slightly ajar door and halted in shock as his eyes fell on Tonny. He was still sprawled out across his bed, completely naked and asleep. Will's mouth parted as he stared in awe at a scene he'd never have expected to grace his bedroom. His eyes widened and he backed out of the room silently, trying not to drop his glass. Was there something he had forgotten or buried deep in the hidden recesses of his mind? He had blacked out before and woken up hours later to a slightly different world and he was wondering if it had happened again. He replayed his day and found no gap of missing or unaccounted-for time. This scene in his room felt like an image plucked from his subconscious and haphazardly pasted over the real world. It was surreal and felt odd like he was experiencing both déja vu and a vivid hallucination simultaneously.

Will calmly and deliberately crept back down the hall and stairs.  _What the hell is happening?_ he wondered as he stood, panicking at the bottom of the steps. 

He rushed to the kitchen, his mind reeling with inappropriate thoughts and immediately dumped out his water in the sink. He pulled out a bottle of vodka from the lower cabinet and tipped it over his glass, before leaning back against the sink and downing his drink in a single gulp.

“Um, okay, Will ... this is fine,” he muttered aloud, attempting to calm himself, and he poured another shot in his glass. He rubbed his forehead and his mind frantically searched for rational reasons as to why Tonny was naked in his bed. _Maybe he’s sick_   _or his room caught on fire and it destroyed his bed ... and also all his clothes ..._ Will scoffed at his ridiculousness and resigned himself to simply not knowing anything until Tonny woke up. He would just go shower, hopefully giving the man enough time to wake up and vacate without confrontation. This was as good a plan as any, so he headed back upstairs, after quickly emptying his glass yet again.

Will gently closed the bathroom door with a click and stripped off his muddy shirt and pants. There was already a pile of clothes on the floor and his mind flickered to imagining Tonny disrobing to take a shower. He clenched his eyes, trying to flush out the image with memories of his day’s useless activities. He discreetly pushed the clothes aside before stepping into the shower. The water was only luke-warm but this was the least of Will's current concerns. He washed as quickly as possible, avoiding any thoughts that might meander back into his bedroom. Naturally, his mind, refusing to cooperate with his wishes, fixated on the tattoo on Tonny’s back. It was a winged knife that filled the center of his spine, the blade of which pointed straight down towards ... Will shook his head and chastised himself. “ _For fuck’s sake ..._ ” he huffed under his breath, berating his lascivious thoughts. He rinsed off as quickly as his hands would allow and shut off the now-frigid water. His mind was getting out of hand.

Pulling back the curtain, he looked for a clean towel only to find an empty shelf and he cursed Tonny under his breath. He was surveying the bathroom for anything he could use when he notice a still wet and crumpled towel on the floor by the door. He apprehensively picked it up, drying off his arms and chest. As he brought it to his face and hair, he noticed how much it smelled like Tonny. While he wasn’t normally a fan of cigarettes and musky male skin, he found that this scent severely aggravated his attempts to clear his head of lewd thoughts. He pulled the towel down into his hands to inspect it, shaking his head and closing his eyes, trying to imagine anything except the scene he was replaying in his mind. He touched it to his mouth and inhaled slowly in and then out. He bit his lip and shook his head again. This was ridiculous. He was not smelling Tonny's towel! He frantically rubbed it over his skin before quickly tossing it in the far corner of the bathroom. It no longer lived on Will's plane of existence.

When his feet hit the cold bathroom tile, he suddenly remembered why he'd gone to his bedroom in the first place – to gather clean clothes, which he had not been able to accomplish. He couldn’t bring himself to put back on his muddy jeans and dirty tee-shirt so he retrieved the cast-off towel and wrapped it around his waist. The idea to have a shower in the middle of this fucked up conundrum was probably one of Will's less than ideal ideas. Now they were both naked.

He carefully opened his bedroom door, silently pleading with the hinges not to make a sound. Once inside, he crept to his dresser to retrieve what he could from the least noisy top draw – a pair of boxers and a tee shirt were good enough. After quietly dressing, he closed the drawer with a light thud, watching Tonny stir among the blankets. Will made his way to the edge of the bed and decided to sit and confront this senseless situation before something catastrophic happened.

“Tonny?” he whispered. Tonny’s eyes shot open as he recoiled, scrambling back on the bed. “It’s ok! It’s ok!” he reassured, putting up his hands in a non-threatening gesture. “It’s just me.” Tonny opened his mouth to say something but nothing came out. “What are you doing?” asked Will, trying not to sound particularly aggressive or angry. He was neither. He was embarrassed and now panicked, but he blamed that on feeling Tonny's visceral reaction.

“I fell asleep,” he said, pulling Will's blanket around his waist. He looked at the floor and cleared his throat. “What time is it?”

“I don’t know, maybe seven thirty?” said Will, checking the watch on his nightstand. He nodded as he read the time. When he looked up, he staring at Tonny's puffy bloody lip. “What happened to your mouth?” he asked, reaching out to touch Tonny's face.

Tonny drew back, avoiding Will's hand as it neared his cheek. “Ax handle,” he said as Will dropped his hand.

Will nodded and rubbed his neck with his withdrawn hand. “And why are in you my room, Tonny?” he asked again. He was planning on ignoring his nudity – for now.

“I don't remember,” he said. “I think I was trying to not be alone,” he confessed, unsure if he really had wanted to reveal that. His mind was still dazed and disoriented.

Tonny's admission was somewhat heartbreaking, but also confusing. “Where's Aksel then?” he asked. 

“Layla took him – to meet family,” he said calmly, sitting up. He still couldn’t bring himself to look Will in the eye.

Will nodded and looked down at the watch still in his hands. “Well, um, I’m here now, so … you’re not alone, I guess.” He was still nodding his head, only now he was compulsively twisting the tiny knob on his watch, resetting the timepiece over and over again. “Were you going to lay back down?” he asked, still diverting his eyes from Tonny's bare skin. “Actually, you know what …,” Will cleared his throat before continuing, “I’m gonna run downstairs for a second. If you're still in here when I get back, okay, maybe we can talk ... if not, that’s fine too.” Will stood, and hurried out the door, still carrying his watch and made his way down the steps, into the kitchen.

Finally alone, he cringed at his embarrassment for himself and for Tonny. He mumbled to himself as he chewed his lip, "We are all adults. He explained himself ... sort of. It's fine." He poured and downed another shot of vodka before refilling his glass with water.

Inhaling deep, clarifying breaths, he slowly ascended the stairs again and peered in his now empty room. His chest hollowed but he pushed aside the undeserved feelings of rejection and nodded to himself in approval. This was fine. Tonny was probably embarrassed. He reset his watch, placed his glass on the nightstand, and flattened out the sheets and blankets, remaking the disheveled bed. He laid back on the bed and stared up at the ceiling. A part of him wanted to curl up on the still warm half of his bed and close is eyes – the part that had had a long, aggravating day and just wanted to feel connected to someone. His hand slid across the sheets where Tonny had laid when the door suddenly opened and he stepped in, now wearing sweatpants and carrying an open bottle of whiskey. Will drew back his hand and watched him take a long swig of whiskey and offer him the bottle. Will slowly shook his head. He was already buzzing from the vodka. 

Tonny sat down on the other side of the bed and leaned against the headboard. “Did you stop at a bar?” he asked after a pause.

“What? No,” denied Will. Why would he assume he'd drink while traveling? He scratched his head and sat up in bed next to him.

Tonny narrowed his eyes at him. “But you smell like booze.”

Will grimaced. "Yeah, I had a drink downstairs before I came up,” he said, and Tonny nodded, taking another swig.

They both nervously side-eyed each other with not much more to say. Tonny was attempting to form some sort of rational excuse as to why he was sprawled across Will's bed totally fucking naked, but his mind was still a foggy mush. He decided that if Will brought it up, he'd just deny everything, making Will look crazy. He already was, so who would notice? He glanced down Will's body from the corner of his eye, noticing how little he was wearing. It was unusual for him to not be wearing pants. Tonny had obviously seen Will dressed for bed, but he typically wore some sort of cotton pants when he walked around the house, especially when others were awake or expected to be milling around. Tonny had occasionally caught him leaving the bathroom in just a tee shirt and boxers, which was always more awkward for Will than him. In fact, Will found it so embarrassing that he had two toothbrushes now – one upstairs in the shared bathroom and one downstairs on the back of the utility sink by the washer and dryer, just to avoid running into Tonny before going to bed. He was odd like that.

The uncomfortable silence between the two was causing Will's hand to fidget against his leg and he debated grabbing a book to read. Would that be weird? – to just start reading a book with a half-naked person in your bed? – a person who you discovered in your bed in the same vein as Goldilocks, though decidedly more sexual in nature. His eyes suddenly darted to the stack of children's books on his dresser and he noted that everything else around the books was tipped over or now on the floor. He squinted his eyes now wondering what the hell Tonny was doing in here in the first place. Disregarding the nudity and Tonny's strange comment about being alone, he had no reason to be invading Will's privacy like this. It was an unspoken rule in the house that you stay out of someone else's bedroom. He was starting to question how many other house rules Tonny was ignoring. Everything _was_ starting to smell like smoke ...

This bizarre silent exchange seemed just as good a time as any to get off Tonny's chest some of his concerns, worries, or grievances that he'd developed recently, so he decided to clear the air. “Layla tried to fuck me,” he blurted, turning the whiskey bottle in his hands and looking over at Will.  

Will nervously chuckled at Tonny's bluntness. “What? Are you serious?” He incredulously shook his head but Tonny nodded. He stared off into space imagining what kind of horrific exchange that entailed. “Well, I’m glad you didn’t. She’s only seventeen,” he said, and he watched Tonny’s eyes widen. “You-You didn’t know she was seventeen?”

“I thought twenty, maybe.”

“No ... and in Virginia, that would be a _felony,_ ” stated Will clearly and matter-of-factly. This was a conversation he really didn't want to have but if it could avoid more jail time for the man, it was best Tonny understood now.

He scoffed and shook his head. “Nah, really? Like illegal?”

“Yeah, when were you born? ‘79? ‘80?” asked Will.

Tonny chuckled to himself, glancing at the floor. “'88. August fifteen,” he clarified.

“Oh, jesus,” huffed Will, covering his eyes with his hand. “You, uh, look older than … twenty-four,” he continued, now staring at the wall over the bedroom door, feeling disgustingly wrong and even more awkward than he had before. He knew Tonny was younger than him – but by a decade? Now he felt sick.

Tonny raised his eyebrows and chuckled at Will's sickly pale face. “Then why would Layla come to me then? If it's not legal?”

“I have no idea ... but let’s not talk about it, um ... ever again, ok?” He took off his glasses, pinching the bridge of his nose and snickered, mumbling to himself.

Tonny grinned at him and took another swig of whiskey. “How old are you?” he wondered, biting his lip and hissing in both pain and at the burning gulp.

Will disapprovingly watched Tonny continue to drink excessive amounts of whiskey and he shifted anxiously on the bed. _Does he need to get wasted constantly? We're finally talking and he's gonna get shitfaced again._  The vodka churning around in his own empty gut was making him overheated and his mind was dulling from the alcohol. He thought his muscles were beginning to loosen and that his mind was relaxing, but learning Tonny's age had given him a new obsession to focus on and chastise himself over. He was willing to admit that he found _something_ about Tonny attractive – his intoxicating accent, his joviality, or perhaps his disconcerting gaze. Whatever it was, caused in him a great turmoil – a confusing disquietness of his mind and body. Now knowing that Tonny was a decade younger than him, Will felt safe in knowing that neither of them would act inappropriately towards the other, though to Will's buzzing head, he was finding this fact to be rather irritating.  

He was also finding the repetitive tipping of the whiskey bottle in front of Tonny's swollen mouth to be somewhat irritating and he chewed his lip, obsessively straightening his clothes and the sheets on the bed as he watched him. “I’m, uh, thirty-four …” he said, pausing to watch Tonny gulp another swig. “So that makes me old enough to know when you’ve had enough.” He suddenly snatched away the bottle, immediately stumbling to his feet, recognizing how ungracious or rude that gesture may be interpreted. With the bottle still in hand, he backed away from Tonny who was still on the bed.

Tonny’s mouth dropped open and he shook his head staring at Will. “Did you just steal that from me?” He slowly rose and rounded the footboard.

Will clenched his jaw, realizing he may have made an alcohol-induced error in judgment and recoiled back. He swallowed hard and cocked his head. “Technically I paid for it, so I didn’t steal it. And even if I had ... what the hell are you going to do about it?” Though he spoke in jest, Will was immediately regretting his overconfident tone as the tall menacing Dane stared him down.

Tonny laughed into his fist, continuing to approach him. _“Jeg slår dig ihjel,”_ he muttered, his voice low and threateningly, his eyes leering at Will.

“Um, no, I don’t speak ... well, that's not German, so I guess it's Danish and that’s not fair.” He stepped back, both hands raised, one still clutching the bottleneck. “You're fucking terrifying,” he admitted, now staring into Tonny’s black eyes. 

“Terrifying?" Tonny stopped, laughing to himself. "Maybe ... I am not that scary, am I? And I said _‘I will kill you’_ ,” he repeated. He took another step towards Will.

“Well, that’s a bit extreme, don’t you think?” he joked, nervously chuckling and slinking further away until his back suddenly collided with the wall.

“I kill for less.” Tonny smirked, now inches from Will's body which was still pressed against the wall.

Will shook his head, no longer smiling. “Don't-Don’t say that. It's not funny.” He dropped his hands and shoved the bottle into Tonny's bare chest. “Take it, but stop drinking it; I’m serious. You’re an adult – I mean barely – but still. Act like one.” Tonny took the bottle and Will pushed past him to sit back down on the edge of the bed.

Tonny wrinkled his forehead at the exchange and set the whiskey on the floor by the door. “I don’t know … I think it was a joke? I’m not going to kill you, Will,” he explained, wondering if he totally screwed up the translation. His head was murky and confused and he didn't understand why Will's playful demeanor had suddenly turned into an aggravated bitterness towards him. “Adults drink, Will, what are you talking about?” He stumbled back and decided to sit at the foot on the bed rather than fall to the floor.

“Adults don’t drink so much that they make shitty decisions,” blurted Will, confused as to where that even came from or where it was going considering how tipsy he was. “Adults don’t mope around all pissy, getting drunk for no reason just because they can.” His head felt foggy and irritated and he had a hard time forming thoughts that made sense. The vodka was making it hard for him to rationalize the situation and it was getting worse.

Tonny's neck stiffened hearing Will accuse him of being an irresponsible child. “Yes, they do! That is what _everyone_ does,” he snapped. “Life is horrible, so I drink. Fuck you, Will.” That bastard was judging him. Will criticized every single action he’d ever made. He couldn’t stand constantly being under Will’s righteous little microscope.

 _“Your_ life is horrible?” Will rolled his eyes. “You were handed a job and a home and free fucking babysitting. You don't have to do shit around here except help me outside. You don't even pay fucking taxes ..." Will sat up and rubbed his eyes, sure that he had a point somewhere within this tirade. He looked back up to Tonny.  "You know what’s _actually_ horrible, Tonny? Watching a murderer kill his wife and slit his daughter’s throat. That’s pretty fucking horrible!” Will blinked back a fog and realized he was shouting. What the fuck was he saying? He had no right to compare his life to Tonny's. He had no idea what Tonny had lived through. Since the man's arrival Will had avoided as much about his past as he could, just to _avoid_ empathizing with him. He didn't want to know. He was trying to remove stressors from his life not compound them.

“What are you fucking talking about?!” scoffed Tonny, his voice raising to match Will's. He glared at him, ready to call this whole goddamn day a wash and finally go get fucked up in his room alone.

Will exhaled and rubbed his eyes. “Just forget it,” he said, slumping over at the edge of the bed. They sat in silence as they both pretended to sober up.

“Why the hell are you back so early?” snapped Tonny, staring at the side of Will's lowered head.

“I forgot all the damn receipts like a dumbass,” he said. Remembering his mistake from earlier had him cringing again at all the wasted time and money. This goddamn day could go to hell.

“Well that was fucking stupid,” said Tonny, smiling. He really wasn't mad, but he enjoyed watching Will get defensive about things. It was fun.

Will scoffed and chuckled. “Yeah, well, it was.” They sat for a few more minutes in silence, their minds throbbing with alcohol and myriad of unrealistic salacious thoughts, each running through different potential scenarios for how this bizarrely heated situation was going to end.

Will finally nodded and stood up, patting Tonny on the bare shoulder. “Good chat,” he joked and he opened the bedroom door, on his way to the bathroom cool down. Tonny sighed and peered at the whiskey bottle on the floor. He grabbed it and took another long swig before setting it down and following Will out the door.

It wasn’t all bad. Will stared at himself in the bathroom mirror.  _At least we're both mostly clothed now ..._   _and can basically look each other in the eye_. Their strange confrontation had been brief and though both of them were still buzzing, they were still on speaking terms, so clearly it was a success. Will criticized these very low standards he'd set in regards to how successful his social interactions were with Tonny. Every time they spoke he still felt flustered and distracted by something he had yet to substantially identify. He made him nervous and it had to have somthing to do with his past.

Eventually, Will decided to go downstairs, joining Tonny in the kitchen. He was hungry and tired and hoped to enjoy the remainder of the evening in peace. When he entered the kitchen, he scrunched his nose, watching Tonny awkwardly eating his second bowl of cereal standing over the sink. 

“I can make us some eggs or something,” said Will, noticing how uncivilized Tonny acted when totally alone.

“Why?” he scoffed. Why did Will insist on making everything harder than it had to be? Cereal was easy. Eggs were fucking work. It was simple. He was fucking crazy.

“Because it’s ... nevermind.” Will conceded, digging through the haphazard cupboard for a clean bowl for himself. They both ate in silence until a cacophony of barks and growls erupted from the living room. “Hey!” yelled Will to the dogs through the kitchen doorway. “Stop! Stop!” He set down his bowl and corralled them as Layla opened the door, holding Aksel on her shoulder. He loudly hushed at the dogs who were still whining and snaking under their feet.

Layla plopped the bag on the floor and Will noted that it bore a remarkable resemblance to one he had in the back of his closet. _What the hell was he doing in my room?_   Tonny hesitantly walked over to Layla, his eyes avoiding hers, and gently transferred Aksel to his bare shoulder.

“He literally _just_ fell asleep, poor guy,” she whispered to Tonny and then glanced at Will. “Jesus, put some clothes on, guys. You want the neighbors to talk?” She winked at Will who reddened, looking down to realize that he still wasn’t wearing any pants.

“Was he good?” Tonny asked gruffly. He didn't really feel any animosity towards Layla – his attention was far more investing in figuring out Will at this point – but he did feel slightly embarrassed by their whole encounter. He wasn't one to dwell on sexual transgressions, he was guilty of many himself, so he shrugged it off and hoped Layla did the same.

“Uh, he was an angel as always, and _you’re welcome._ You know, for babysitting and feeding him and all that shit. Geez.” She shook her head at Tonny's surly tone. “I gotta go; my cousin’s in the car. Bye, sugarbutt,” she said kissing Aksel on his hood-covered head. Out the front door she bounded and back to her idling car in the driveway. “See you tomorrow, Will! And fuck you, Tonny!” she yelled, turning around to wave. Tonny grinned and bit his sore lip, flipping her off, and she barked a loud laugh, blowing Tonny a kiss before shutting her car door and speeding away. _Layla's cool,_ he thought, smirking. She spoke a language Tonny was far more fluent in that Will.

Will closed the door, squinting at him. “What?” asked Tonny.

“Nothing,” he replied, pushing a path though the dogs to the stairs.

When Tonny returned from upstairs with just the baby monitor, Will was poking the fire again, rewarming the frigid house. They were both completely inappropriately dressed for such a cold evening, but Will wasn't particularly compelled to cover up and Tonny seemed unfazed by being shirtless, even in the cold and drafty house. If he wasn't in a hoodie, he was typically half-naked, something that had taken weeks for Will to fully accept.

Tonny cleared his throat, flopping down on the couch and turning on the television. Will quietly eyed him from the fireplace, studying his scrunched up face as it attempted to discern whatever was happening between the fast-talking American actors he was watching. Tonny was methodically rubbing his thigh, and Will swallowed down a twinge of guilt, remembering the healing dog bite just under Tonny's stroking fingers. His puffy, split lip didn't particularly assuage Will's guilty conscience as he viscerally imagined Tonny, working alone on a forty-acre farm, getting smacked in the face with a rebounding ax. His gut knotted at that gruesome image and he slowly hung the poker to join Tonny on the couch.

Tonny sniffed his running nose, his eyes still fixed on the television. “I’m a really shitty father, right?” he suddenly said.

Will's eyes dulled and his face softened. “No, not at all,” he said, shaking his head. “Why would you say that?”

“Something Layla said to me.” Tonny's waning attention fell to the floor, so Will turned off the TV.

Will could feel the pain emanating from Tonny, as he slouched further into the couch, curling in on himself, so he gently patted Tonny’s thigh. “You're a great dad. You're there for Aksel when he needs you, you take care of him, you keep him safe …” Will faintly smiled at him but received no acknowledgment back. “And don’t listen to Layla, jesus, she’s a spoiled brat. And I was serious about you not having sex with her. Don’t ... please.”

Tonny tongued his cut lip, grinning at Will. His eyes were thankful and touched by Will's words but he dind't really believe his was in any way a decent father.

Will relaxed back on the couch, briefly wondering if he should talk to Layla about coming on to Tonny. That was not something he wanted to feel obligated to police. Should he call Layla's mother? That seemed extreme, especially since he had no idea what had transpired between the two. 

Tonny tipped his head back on the couch, exhaling a deep sigh, still ogling Will. “Thank you,” he said, scratching his forehead. “I mean, for saying that ... about me. I have no idea what the fuck I am trying to do here.”

“You’re welcome, Tonny," he said, smiling back, "Aksel’s lucky to have you. You made a lot of sacrifices to keep him safe; don’t shortchange yourself." He reached out and lightly squeezed Tonny's shoulder. "And we’ll be figuring out this parenthood shit together. I mean, it can’t be _that_ difficult.” Will grinned, studying Tonny's relaxed face, taken aback by his tender smirk and warm, tired eyes. It felt uncomfortable, like his stomach was suddenly empty and he was hyper aware of his now racing heart. He attempted to swallow the lump in his throat to no avail and now wholeheartedly regretted turning off the television. “We should probably head to bed,” he declared. “I mean, I will,” he fumbled, “I’m going to bed. You can do whatever the fuck you want to do,” he stated clearly, before standing up and heading to the stairs.

Tonny nodded, continuing to watch him from the couch as Will ascended the stairs. Halfway up the steps, Will glanced back down and Tonny grinned at him. “Uh, ‘night Tonny,” he said, nervously chuckling at the man's lecherous gaze.

“G’night, Will,” he said, and Will felt that distinct chill flutter up his spine once again.


	16. Here Lurks no Treason

Fifteen minutes after Will went to bed, Tonny snapped awake still on the couch but now all alone. He stared at the dying fire, rubbing his chin full of stubble and wondered on a scale of one to ten how fucked up this day had actually been. Ten. No, eleven. Definitely higher.

The room was chilling rapidly so he decided to make the arduous journey up the stairs and into his room without stirring the baby. After rubbing his eyes awake and grabbing the monitor, he made it to the bathroom upstairs to brush his teeth and shave the itchy, gruff hair off his face. He kept finding reasons to stall from going to his bedroom - picking up clothes, hanging up wet towels to dry, changing the light bulb that had been burnt out for weeks, until he ran out of reasons to stay locked in the bathroom and crossed the hall to his bedroom.

He entered his room and looked towards the crib in the corner. Aksel breathed soft and steady in a deep sleep. Tonny quietly slipped into his bed, pulling the blanket up to his neck for warmth. Sighing and gritting his teeth, he realized he was now wide awake after his alcohol-induced micro-nap on the couch. Something was still unsettling to him and he tossed and turned, finally laying on his back. The cocaine just inches from his head. It would definitely be a welcome addition to the screwed up day he'd just endured. He reached behind the bed post and retrieved the small bag, peering at the bright white ball through the darkness. An alcoholic buzz was still present in his head, though slowly lifting, and he saw this as a fortunate opportunity to enjoy himself a bit. After all, the day had been long and exhausting and though he was actually in a fairly decent mood, a little mood-booster would make it that much better.

He quietly opened his nightstand drawer and fished out the pocket knife Jacob had given him the day he drove him up to the farm. He pulled out the bottle opener and used it to scoop out a small bump of cocaine from the bag. He needed to make this bag last. He eagerly brought it to his nose and snorted. He closed his eyes and breathed in slowly, rubbing the side of his nose. He scooped and inhaled a second bump before he sealed the bag and tucked it behind the bedpost. He laid back down and his mind raced with a mixture of elation, trepidation, and a tinge of immediate regret. No, he didn't regret anything. There was nothing to regret. He was allowed to enjoy himself. 

A muffled creak and a click resounded across the hall as the bathroom door opened and closed. A deep pang in Tonny's belly sent a twinge of excitement pulsing through him as his mind focused on the day, the high, and Will – only ten feet away. Despite his self-gratification in the shower earlier, he was still tense and wanted to relax. He reached down to feel himself through his sweatpants – already semi-hard from his last thought. It wasn't that he found Will to be that attractive – though he did enjoy staring at his ass – but rather fun to goad and fluster. His awkwardness was easy to tease and the fact that he treated Tonny with dignity went a long way towards making him enticing. He had an innocence that made him seem younger and vulnerable, but also a safe with guns and an intelligence that commanded respect from others. Will thought he was invisible in a crowd, but to Tonny, he was everything but. His job with the FBI was disconcerting to a criminal on the run but that tension also made this whole situation somewhat captivating. 

Lightly rubbing and stroking himself, Tonny was amassing more pleasure at this precise moment than he had in years. His gentle whiskey-induced buzz was lifting and all that remained of the alcohol was a deep sense of relaxation that weighed his body down into his bed. Patiently he waited for the high to lift him back up.

The anticipation was getting the best of him and he moaned softly and satisfyingly as he rubbed himself through his pants. He breathed deep and couldn’t help but release a satisfying groan that brought with it a breathy catch in his throat. His mind was easing as he felt an immediate sense of rejuvenation flow through him. There were no nagging flashes in his head, no fear or shame pulsing through his body. All he felt was an overwhelming confidence washing over him. He had chased this feeling for years, having forgotten the sheer intensity of the earliest euphoria. His months of sobriety were worth it, just for this one moment. He slowly reached his hand into his pants to explore this once memorized feeling of exhilaration. His mind was trembling awake and he was going to enjoy himself come hell or high water.

* * *

Will had made it to his bedroom with the uneasy chill still lingering on his spine from the simple _good night_ whispered by Tonny. He sat down on his bed and worked through the day. The responsibilities of tomorrow and the total fuck up of today were weighing on his shoulders like a cold, wet blanket. He took off his glasses and laid in bed, still buzzing slightly from his evening shots. He needed to crash, so he briefly dozed, not even bothering to turn off his light.

He awoke suddenly to creaking floorboards in the hall and his heart raced. He sat up and realized that both he and his bed were drenched in sweat so he pulled off his shirt to change. A gentle squeak and click of the bathroom door opening and Tonny’s bedroom door closing had him start to sweat again. He waited a few minutes then headed down the hall to the bathroom to wipe off his face and get a towel to lay on his bed.

He flipped on the light. The bathroom was overly bright and spotless. He doused his face with water and was drying it off when he heard a lascivious moan coming from the shelves next to the sink. He looked over, searching frantically for this bizarre noise, only to find the baby monitor perched on the shelf. He listened intently as groans and rasps of pleasure erupted from the speaker like a pornographic radio show. His heart stopped and he stared at the LED lights leading across the baby monitor. Breathy shivers fell out of him as he listened to Tonny touch himself in the room just across the hall. _“Oh, fuck no,”_ he whispered to himself, incapable of moving or breathing.

He splashed more cold water on his face and stared at himself in the mirror, unable to believe this was happening. It was like this day was tormenting him with these ridiculously sexual tests. Why? Why was he being presented with these ludicrous opportunities for sexual gratification, all revolving around Tonny. Why Tonny? Why did this test involve  _Tonny,_ of all people? Will pleaded with himself to come up with an answer. Tonny, an ex-criminal with an admitted unsavory past, was caught lying naked in his bed – _my_  bed, Will noted to himself – and he was now fondling himself, projecting his guttural Scandanavian moans all through Will's house! He was failing; he was failing whatever test this was. Will knew he was failing because his mind was stuck on a questioning loop ... _What does he taste like? What does he feel like? Is his skin always that warm? Is age really that important? He's still an adult; he can make his own decisions ... What the fuck am I saying?! I don't want to fuck Tonny! That's insane. You're insane, Will. Wait ... am I blacking out? Is this a dream? If this is a dream, why are you dreaming about fucking Tonny, Will? What if it's not a dream? It doesn't feel like a dream ... but dreams always seem real until you wake up in the middle of the goddamn woods!_

More moans and panting sighs erupted from the monitor and Will decided he had to get the fuck out of there. He flipped off the light and swiftly opened the door only to stop and stare at Tonny’s room across the hall. He swallowed and tried to walk, but his legs were frozen in place. And then as if ordained by god, the bedroom door he was staring at slowly opened and Tonny stepped into the hall.

 _“Fuck!”_  shouted Tonny, covering his mouth to muffle himself. This was the second time he'd been startled by that son of a bitch looming in the darkened bathroom doorway. He closed his bedroom door with a click and staggered towards Will. “What the _fuck_ are you doing? You scared me, you shit,” he quietly laughed, stepping closer to Will’s still unmoving figure.

Will paused and thought. He mulled and weighed the pros and cons like he always did, only this time he may have been a bit biased as his body had desires that his mind simply refused to acknowledge. He grumbled to himself and decided he couldn’t take this physically unsatisfying form of pining any longer and snapped. He grabbed Tonny's arms and shoved him back against the wall, bringing their faces so close that they could feel each other’s breaths on their cheeks.

Tonny huffed from the force of his back smashing into the wall, and he stared at Will's trembling face. “What are you doing, Will?” he whispered. He waited for a response, biting his split lip, but Will said nothing. This was that awkwardness that was so enjoyable to Tonny. He knew Will was holding back for some reason but he thoroughly enjoyed watching him struggle with himself. Tonny was game for anything, but Will was still questioning the rules.

Will laid his forehead on Tonny’s bare shoulder and deeply inhaled, softly nuzzling his neck with his face. He was completely and utterly lost. He knew what he wanted but not how to get it. There were still many walls built around him, preventing the bad from sneaking in. But while dangers were kept at bay, the goodness – the potential tenderness and enjoyment one felt with camaraderie – was also hindered from entering. “I don’t know what I'm doing,” he whispered back.

Tonny sunk into Will, pressing his parted lips to his neck and feeling Will shudder under his touch. If he had to take his time, he would. Will was like a scared rabbit, darting between the precived saftey of social norms. Will was lonely and very hard on himself and often denied himself the pleasures of life out of irrational fear or unfounded worry. Tonny wanted to rid him of that and help him feel alive.

Will push his body further into Tonny's before years of chastising his thoughts and decisions forced him to break their bond by stumbling backward.

Tonny leaned back against the wall, staring at the barely lit figure of Will opposite him. They both panted, their corporeal appetites finally whetted in each other’s presence. Will, wide-eyed and skittish, slowly backed down the hall towards his room, unsure if he was attempting to suggest that Tonny follow him or if he was simply making a hasty retreat. He watched carefully as Tonny cocked his head and stepped towards him, gradually increasing his pace until he was right on top of him. Will opened his bedroom door behind him and they both silently slipped inside.

The bright light of Will’s lamp had Tonny flinching and shielding his eyes so he reached to turn it off.

“Don’t,” insisted Tonny, lowering his hand from his eyes.

Will nodded and sighed, not sure what he was expecting to happen now. Should he rebuild his crumbling wall and send Tonny away, or let the bricks fall where they may? He sat down on the edge of his bed, his heart still a contorted mass of worry and shame.

“I was coming here,” confessed Tonny as he watched Will avert his eyes to the floor. 

Will quickly glanced up at him, rubbing his face nervously, and nodded at his admission as though it made total sense to him. “I, uh…” he stammered, “I heard you in your room.” He was trying and failing to shrug off any feeling of embarrassment this confession might cause. Tonny forrowed his brows, confused by his comment so Will attempted to clarify. “In the monitor,” he finished, motioning in the general direction of the bathroom down the hall. "You were, um, preoccupied ..." he sighed, clenching his jaw, "preoccupied with yourself." 

Tonny nodded with a puzzled smirk and slowly stepped back towards the bedroom door. Will’s body tensed as he watched him move away from him and then scoop up the liquor bottle still on the floor by the door. Tonny looked at its label briefly, uncapped it, and took a gulp.  

“What are you doing? _Come on_...” Will shook his head in disbelief. They _just_ argued about this.

“What?” Tonny asked, mildly amused. “I’m not _drunk_.” And he wasn’t technically, though he _was_ high. He held the bottle by the neck and offered it to Will once again.

This time Will frowned but accepted it and without any hesitation, took a swig himself, cringing as the burn erupted through his throat. “Ugh,” he snickered to himself. “That’s why I don’t do that,” he said, coughing into his shoulder. He gave the bottle back to Tonny who was still grinning at Will’s reaction.

After another tip, Tonny set the bottle back on the floor and stepped in front of Will, eyes dilated and fixated on the man's mouth. Tonny assumed that Will pushing him against the wall and _nearly_ kissing him was about the extent of what he was willing and capable of doing on his own. As he recalled their hallway rendezvous, however, he wasn’t entirely sure why Will had done it at all. It was probably alcohol induced, though his mind didn’t seem to care now that this interesting opportunity had presented itself. There were a myriad of potential sexual scenarios that could happen now, and Tonny wondered what he might be able to coax out of this awkward and lonely man. _Probably anything_ , he surmised, as his mouth watered. His mind raced with memories of all his previous sexual experiences and he couldn’t help but feel enamored with Will’s unfamiliarity. The cocaine made him feel like a predator and he was overrun with a feeling of invincibility.

Will’s eyes widened as Tonny leaned down towards him. Feeling hesitant to touch, lest his aching skin burst into flames, Will leaned back into his pillow. He painfully avoided the contact he so profoundly coveted, until Tonny was climbing over him and nudging his neck with his mouth, sucking agonizingly on his skin. Will tried to relax into him, feeling his head nod back towards Tonny’s throat, but he hesitated, unsure as to what he was supposed to do to him, or with him ... or for him. He desperately wanted to savor his skin with his tongue, enjoying its bitter taste in his mouth. He wanted to relish his soft gentle heat, running his hands along the man's flesh. His desire for human contact had been so great that he felt this trivial amount of touch was already overflowing that need within him.

Will tentatively leaned towards Tonny’s neck and slowly nipped at his salty skin, hoping he wasn't overstepping some imaginary bounds. He slowly ran his hands along the man's back, sensing Tonny's muscles stiffen under his touch. Tense and uncertain of his actions, Will reached up and gently palmed the back of his head, running his fingers through the man's hair, softly gripping and pulling his head and neck down, as though it was possible to bring him closer to his body.

Tonny pulled back from Will’s neck just enough to look into his eyes with a mixture of thrill from his high and flushed intoxication from the whiskey. It was a potent and lusty gaze that had Will temporarily mesmerized by this deep and intimate glimpse into Tonny's emotional needs. They eagerly tasted each other lips, finally releasing the raw intensity that had developed between them over the last few weeks.

Pushing and grinding through the pain of his split lip, Tonny consumed each sensation, preserving them all away in the box in his mind reserved for his greatest accomplishments. His thoughts were on fire with a self-assured euphoria, as his high forced him to fixate on his passionate hunger that seemed only satiated when he felt hands stroking his skin and lips upon his mouth.

There was a ferocity with which Tonny manipulated his body over Will's. Still hesitant, Will gripped and tugged on the man's hips, settling them against his own as they moved together, groping and exploring each other’s bodies like drunken, inexperienced teenagers. Will tried to focus on his own aching needs but his mind was thick and sluggishly drunk and the weight of Tonny’s body had him feeling satisfyingly restrained.

Scraping his teeth over Will’s skin, Tonny tongued and sucked on his salty flesh in an attempt to cannibalize this overwhelming and unfamiliar feeling of being agonizingly captivated by another person. He was entranced by these unexpected and unexplored emotions. He'd never felt this sensation of physical yearning before. He'd felt basic human desire, but not this intense longing for another. His previous experiences had him clumsily searching for some sort of hastily achieved orgasm, unattached and alone, never diving into another being with such force that he physically could not find himself.     

Will noticed Tonny’s breath quicken as he forced his hips harder and firmer into the body above him. Tonny's chest tightened against his and the man pulled away to look down into Will's face again, his eyes electrifying and strained. Will was immersed in a thick choking cloud of whiskey being exhaled with each of Tonny's panting breaths and he suddenly felt his own inebriation burning within his throat. Tonny slowly lowered his head onto the cold pillow next to Will as he struggled to maintain any amount of composure to lengthen his blissful delirium. Will, however, did not share his desire. He wanted to experience the full spectrum of sensation and longed to know he was at least in part responsible for another person's physical rapture. He fumbled around between their sweating bodies and pulled at Tonny’s pants in an effort to free him. Tonny’s breathy moan at Will’s groping touch sent an aching charge down Will's spine and it left him breathless but suddenly aware of his own physically painful needs.

Will gripped the small of Tonny's back, gently pulling the man's thrusting pelvis up into his stomach. "I ..." Will paused to avoid stuttering as he figured out what he was attempting to say, "I want to feel you come," he whispered between heated alcoholic breaths, shocked that those words had even escaped from his own mouth. His needs temporarily focused entirely on wanting to feel and witness Tonny come against his body.

Tonny slowly digested Will's words, hearing them echo in his intoxicated mind and once again logging them away to the best of his ability. He frantically shifted back to gnawing Will’s neck, only to pause moments later, closing his eyes as a tension gripped his face. He gasped and shuddered, straightening his back, as he came between their writhing bodies. He moaned and huffed, feeling the warmth radiating between them as Will groaned with an equally inebriated satisfaction. Tonny’s head fell back next to Will’s, his breath heaving loudly in his ear. Their cheeks rubbed and nuzzled together as subtle whimpers unintentionally escaped their mouths.

Slowly regaining control of his own body, Tonny brushed his tongue up Will’s neck and then lifted himself off and rolled to his side, facing the breathless and achingly lovesick man. Will turned his face towards him and began to speak but his words faltered in his mouth as he felt Tonny slide his hand down his wet tacky shirt and into his boxers. He was fiendishly staring into Will's eyes, arrogantly savoring how much Will's gaze seemed to plead with him to continue and he basked in this feeling of control and being needed by another.

Will softly panted as Tonny’s hand grasped and stroked him, bringing him as close to the edge of bliss as he could. He was close, but his mind was painfully caught somewhere between the shame he felt for being attracted to Tonny and the relief of being accepted despite his self-loathing. The burdens Will carried, both real and imagined, were what forced him into isolation. To allow someone inside that protective realm was overwhelming.

Tonny buried his face in Will’s hair, still breathing against the man's ear, kissing and caressing his cheek. He wanted so badly to make Will feel the same intensity he'd felt while coming on his intoxicating cocktail of substances. Excitedly sensing the impending orgasm, Tonny patiently hovered over Will's face, nipping and licking his lips and watching Will's eyes close. Tonny satisfyingly moaned, feeling Will's body clench beneath him. "Come for me, Will," he ordered, his breathy voice unintentionally speaking what his delirious mind was thinking.

Will, overcome with his own emotions and unable to control himself after hearing the drunkenly accented sound of the man's voice, came into Tonny's eagerly awaiting hand. He finally relaxed, his rocking hips slowed, and he twitched at the sensation of his body being groped and stroked at it's most sensitive. Tonny finally let go and they laid there together, panting and overheated, the alcohol still burning through their skin. Tonny’s mind was just beginning to clear as his high slowly waned and Will’s utter exhaustion from his long, arduous day was slowly overtaking him. They were both breathlessly consumed with fatigue, both mental and physical.

Tonny pulled out his hand and wiped it on Will’s dampened shirt. “Oh ... nice," panted Will, "Thanks,” he sarcastically chuckled, his temporary ecstasy quickly dissipating. He looked down, grimacing at the mess on his stomach and chest.

“You’re welcome,” huffed Tonny with a laugh, laying back down.

They laid there, still and contemplative until their minds gradually settled back to their buzzed realities. Will sat up, his head dizzying, and pulled his shirt off, using it to wipe himself off before tossing it to Tonny who did the same. Once relatively clean, Tonny stood up and unabashedly stripped off his pants and boxers off, tossing them on the floor. Despite what they had just done, Will was still shocked by Tonny's total comfort in his own skin. Noticing the whiskey once more, Tonny picked it up and took a swig, again offering it to Will who simply shook his head this time. Tonny set it back to the floor and silently slipped out into the hallway.

Will was suddenly left alone in his room. His sheets were still damp from his earlier sweaty nap and now impregnated with the smell of Tonny's skin and cum. The thick scent of whiskey also hung in the cool air and Will was left wondering if Tonny was even coming back. He quickly changed into clean, dry boxers and another white tee-shirt and returned to his bed.

Before he could decide that the entire evening was a catastrophic mistake, Tonny opened the door. He had returned with a pack of cigarettes and the baby monitor.

“Want one?” he asked Will, holding out the pack with a lighter.

“No,” replied Will, curiously eyeing him, “... and can you ... can you _not_ smoke in here? Like I asked you not to.”

“Really?” scoffed Tonny. He narrowed his eyes at Will and ignored him, continuing to pull out a smoke and stick it in his mouth. He stared directly at him as he lit it and threw the lighter on the nightstand next to the monitor.

Will shook his head at Tonny's disrespectful insolence. ”At least open a goddamn window, asshole,” he said, nodding to the window over the bed.

Tonny smirked and hopped up on the bed to open one of the high windows over the headboard. He leaned out with his lit cigarette and looked out into the darkness. The only hint of light came from the two flood lights illuminating the barn and stable. He stared at the lights, his hot breath steaming and smoking as it billowed out white clouds into the freezing air. _“Fuck,_ it’s cold!” he whined when the freezing air hit his lungs.

“Deal with it,” sneered Will, reclining back at the foot of the bed. From this vantage point he could gaze up at Tonny’s naked body and he was unsurprisingly enjoying the view. Tonny was lean and slowly regaining muscle mass as he spent most of his time working outside on the farm. His skin bore seemingly random black tattoos across his back and arms. Skulls, faces, flames, and webs decorated his arms and hands. Will took this opportunity to reinspect the winged dagger in the center of his back which was flanked by the phrase _Blood Honour_. That phrase, and the fact that Tonny had admitted to having at one point a shaved head, made Will a tad uneasy and he was sure he'd have to explore that topic with him at some point. Now, however, he was unwilling to allow his anxiety to creep into his already exhausted but temporarily satiated mind.

Tonny was still casually leaning out the window, chewing on his split lip and gazing out into the blackness as his high diminished. His cigarette clung to his mouth and occasionally bloomed a flaming red ember as he inhaled. Will was momentarily astonished by the man's total lack of awkwardness after their clumsy lust-filled experimentation, and this, along with the frigid air rushing in the open window, drew his mind and his hands back to the heat of Tonny’s skin.

Will sat up on his knees and hesitantly brought his mouth to Tonny’s hip, his hands gently wandering down the man's leg. Will was intoxicated by all this unrestricted physical contact with another person. He was somewhat afraid of Tonny deciding he was finished with him and simply leaving Will there, alone and in the cold, so he decided he'd attempt to take advantage of the man's currently vulnerable and approachable disposition. 

With the cigarette still hanging out of his mouth, Tonny casually glanced down and watched Will as he kissed his skin. It was strange to watch someone seem to enjoy touching him. He wasn't paying Will to stay or kiss him and Will wasn't expecting anything in return. It was like Will's hands and lips actually wanted to feel him.

Tonny dangled his cigarette out the window and tousled Will’s hair with his other hand. He looked so playful, crouched by and nibbling at his hip and Will looked up, smirking at him. Will was playful until his eyes fell down Tonny's leg. There were still red scars on his inner thigh and Will traced them with his thumb as pangs of guilt spread through his chest. He painfully moved away from the scars and laid his cheek against Tonny’s leg, closing his eyes and breathing slowly against him.

“If you try it, you’ll be the second person today to put my soft dick in their mouth,” joked Tonny, taking another drag.

Will looked up, choking back laughter. “Is that so? I’m starting to piece together your shitty day.”

“Yeah well ... it got better,” declared Tonny, winking at Will with a smile. He finished his smoke, flicking the butt into the darkness. He quietly closed the window and stepped back a few inches on the bed. Will ogled him now that he had a full view of him from the front, towering over him on the bed, and he moved closer to continued caressing the man's thigh.

Tonny watched Will follow him and furrowed his brows uncomfortably. He stepped farther back so he could fall to his knees on the bed, intent on leveling their eyes. The bed made a loud creak as he landed. _“Shit!”_ he moaned, cringing in fear when he heard a few dogs bark downstairs. He cursed, looking over at the monitor, but not yet hearing anything.

Will chuckled as his worry. “They'll shut up in a minute.”

After a few minutes, the dogs did stop complaining, and the two men stared at each other, their faces softening though their hearts temporarily quickened as they both relived the last hour in their minds. Eventually, the silence got the best of Tonny, and he reached over the edge of the bed to retrieve the whiskey off the floor and took another sip.

“Why do you do that?” asked Will, nodding to the whiskey.

“Do what?” Tonny feigned ignorance at what Will could possibly be referring to.

“Insist on drinking and smoking almost _constantly_ ,” he answered.

Tonny shrugged. “I’d rather do other things but this is all I have.” He unabashedly lied, considering he had fully enjoyed his cocaine high, though now it was just a fleeting haze. 

“If I handed you a bag of cocaine right now what would you do?” wondered Will. Tonny was physically startled by this momentarily sobering question. He shook it off, unconcerned with what Will may or may not know. His initial visceral response, however, made Will immediately regret asking.

Tonny hummed with contentment, barely hesitating before answering. “I’d turn you over right now and do a line off your ass,” he chuckled, miming a gesture of holding a straw to his nose. He licked his lips and ran his hand down Will's thigh. “Or I'd do a line off your hard cock,” he continued, his eyes growing intense at the thought as he leered at Will's body. “And, _fuck_. I would _love_ to do that,” he admitted, hissing with delight at the visualization. “Maybe one day …” He grinned, unconcerned with any ramifications an admission like that may cause. His dwindling high had him totally indifferent to Will's former occupation.

Will's eyes widened and he nervously chuckled, covering his still clothed lap with an additional sheet from the bed. He internally scolded himself for asking because he _really_ didn’t want to know _any_ of that. “So you just replaced that addiction with alcohol and cigarettes?”

“Nej, I always drank and smoked.” Tonny laughed again. “Everyone is addicted to some shit,” he continued, “even you.” He took a swig of whiskey. “We all have secrets to hide and shit we can't get away from.” Tonny momentarily wondered for a second what he had just said. His mind was still willing to be boldly honest, but his tongue, drunk with more swigs from the whiskey, was slowing again. He still felt fearless but he could feel it slipping ever so slightly away.

“I don’t,” lied Will, momentarily shaking his head in shock that he had the balls to even claim that. Of course he had secrets to hide, but the alcohol and orgasm were making him feel drained, weak, and vulnerable. He'd say anything to protect himself.

 _“What?!”_  laughed Tonny. “You have _way_ more secrets than me, Will,” he declared, still laughing.

Will stared at him, his face slack though his lip curled, irked and unamused by Tonny's laughter. “And what is that supposed to mean?” he soberly asked. He quickly reached for his glasses from the nightstand, putting them on as he waiting for Tonny to gain control of himself.

“You scream in the night. All _fucking_ night.” Tonny paused thinking. “ _Every_ fucking night. You have too many dogs. You moved here for reasons you don’t tell anyone about. You see a doctor way too much for someone without secrets. Maybe you are addicted to the fucking _doctor_ ,” rattled Tonny, amused with himself. Will scowled, muttering under his breath, as he clenched his hands into fists. He began to speak but was interrupted. “Like, why me?” Tonny asked. “Why did you give me a job? I’m shit. I can’t do this stuff. I suck at everything. You gave me a room and a job, but you just pay for more work for you. Why? Are you crazy or just stupid?”

Will raised his brows, shocked and appalled. Unable to even look at Tonny he stared at his bookcase shaking his head. He knew the answer as to why he was drawn to him but there was no way in hell he was admitting it now. _This guy's an asshole!_  Will gritted his teeth and glanced back to Tonny who seemed to be waiting for a response so he rapidly raided his mind for a something to say to this dick. He squinted at him as he answered, “Maybe because I felt sorry for you,” he snapped. “You were an addict and a mess when I found you. And all of _that_ …” Will gestured towards Tonny as a whole, “being responsible for a baby was just ... fucked up and wrong. You needed help because you clearly can't do anything on your own.”

Tonny stiffened, leaning away from Will. _What the fuck?!_ “So you feel _sorry_ for me?" he snarled, his face reddening. "You fucking _pity_ me?" he snapped. "Is that what _this_ was about?" He motioned over the bed and his voice cracked ever so slightly, feeling degraded and slightly sick. Will was about to answer him when Aksel wailed through the monitor. _“Fuck,”_  huffed Tonny. “What time is it?” he grumbled standing up.

“Eleven thirty,” sharply answered Will. With that, Tonny quickly escaped Will's room, leaving the door ajar behind him.

Will sat on the edge of the bed rubbing his forehead. He ripped his glasses off his face and threw them back on the nightstand. He huffed and then intentionally slowed his breathing. He closed his eyes, drunkenly mulling over their conversation in his mind. He forced himself to imagine Tonny’s life growing up. He pictured what kind of people his parents must have been to have let him live such a painful and malnourished existence. In his mind he watched Tonny getting drunk and high, living on the street, stealing and pawning whatever he could find. He imagined the fear and humiliation he must have faced daily, the joy and delight of escaping through cocaine, the camaraderie he shared with other kids who grew up like him, and the simultaneous panic and relief of stealing his son away from that world. His mind focused on how staggeringly alone Tonny was there. How painful his life was, stuck in a foreign land with not a soul on his side, and never able to go home. He did pity him. But pity wasn't what made him push Tonny against the hallway wall. Will wasn't exactly sure what made him do _that_...

Will’s eyes fluttered open in alarm and he found himself in total darkness and on his back. He sat up and looked around. He was in his bed, but under his blankets which were vaguely radiating body heat. His lamp was now turned off. He reached for his glasses to check the time – three o'clock. He laid back down and stared into nothing, disoriented and lost in his own head, wondering if this total mess of a day was ever going to end.


	17. “Have you ever been to Copenhagen?”

“Have you ever been to Copenhagen?” asked Will, curtailing the subject away from Hobbs once again. He'd brought to his appointment this single question which had been plaguing his mind and after twenty-five minutes of Hannibal probing him about his mental state since the shooting, he was finally able to blurt it out.

“Yes.” Hannibal nodded, succinctly answering Will's question. “Why do you ask?” His curiosity had him staring at Will, studying the man's oddly nervous demeanor. Will wasn't normally that anxious as sessions, but this particular question had his knee bouncing and him clearing his throat much more than usual.

“And when was that?” Will continued, ignoring Hannibal’s question entirely. His mind had not been able to rest since he and Tonny ... _fucked around_ , as Tonny so eloquently put it. They had spoken only once about their tryst since it happened, and it was a fleeting moment after dinner one evening. Tonny had been exhausted, having spent the day out in the bitter cold, weather-proofing the chicken coop he seemed obsessed with now. He'd come inside, hastily eaten, showered, and while Will was reading and holding Aksel as he slept, Tonny had flopped down on the couch and asked if Will wanted to _fuck around_ again. Will had simply gawked at him, motionless, his eyes pleading with himself to wake up from the obvious nightmare he was trapped in. He quickly declined the offer and Tonny huffed away, mumbling a series of lewd and derogatory remarks. Since their sexual encounter, Will was having a hard time getting Tonny's face – and subsequently, his body – out of his mind. He saw him every morning in the kitchen. He saw him every evening on the couch. He saw him putting away tools when he was working out in the barn. He saw him in Aksel's tiny pink features ... and he saw him staring back at him in a three-piece suit once a week. It was beginning to wear on him, all these Scandinavians surrounding him, and since he wasn't privy to the prominent genetic traits of the Northern European region, he felt an overwhelming desire to find out what the fuck was going on.

Realizing Will was intentionally ignoring him, Hannibal decided to indulge the man's whims. “Many, many years ago, Will. Why?” he questioned yet again.

“Like in the 1980s? 90s?” he asked, shaking his head in mock curiosity. “I was thinking about visiting.” That wasn't a lie, so Will refused to consider it as such. He _had_ thought about visiting Copenhagen, though very briefly and only right before he stated that fact.

“What brought on your sudden interest in visiting Denmark, Will?” asked a now very unamused Hannibal. He uncrossed his legs and sat up in his chair. He never liked it when Will so blatantly lied to him, it was both irritating and counterproductive to their sessions.

“Seems like a nice place,” said Will, deliberately eyeing him. How nice could it be though? It had produced Tonny, a drug-addicted ex-con that Will was certain was at one time, a neo-Nazi, though he refused to acknowledge this aspect of his new ... farm hand. Will strummed his fingers along the arm of his leather chair as he studied Hannibal's face. It was identical, and he meant _identical_. He could quite literally picture Tonny in Hannibal's place. He could imagine Tonny sitting there is an ostentatious suit, chain smoking, and eating french fries, calling all his patient's _crazy fucking cocksuckers._ He could completely envision Hannibal in a black hoodie, leaning against his kitchen island, asking Will which vintage Champagne he preferred with his escargot. It was uncanny and disturbing as hell. One specifically disturbing aspect of this new ability Will had to switch his two friend's identities, was that he could now vividly imagine having sex with Hannibal. His face suddenly fell slack as he thought about Hannibal's body pressed against his – his cheek brushing up his neck, their bodies tightly coiled around one another like mating snails hanging on a long slimy strand ... He quickly averted his eyes wondering why the fuck he was picturing them both as mucousy snails ... He covered his eyes, suddenly feeling incredibly jealous of the dead. He looked up again to meet Hannibal's curious gaze.

“Copenhagen is a _very_ nice place, Will,” he said, reclining in his chair, his eyes squinting at Will's profusely sweating forehead. “Though I haven’t been there in decades. I’m sure it's still nice.” He smiled, though he scrutinized Will’s body language which seemed twitchy and nervous. Will's face was flushed and he was no longer making eye contact as he anxiously fixed and cleaned his glasses and repeatedly glanced at the walls of books lining the loft. “Is your farm not enough of a distraction for you?” he wondered, determined to figure out Will’s unusual question and behavior.

Will hummed a distracted reply. He was attempting to clear his mind of oozing, copulating snails by searching the room for something else to focus on. His eyes roamed the walls until they were caught by Hannibal's elk statue that was featured on a wooden stand along the wall opposite him. He'd often stare at it during sessions, his gaze fixated upon it simply because it appeared to him directly over Hannibal right shoulder. It was an adult male elk, bellowing from its chest. The casting was in bronze with a patina so dark it appeared pitch black. Will had seen this elk before and he'd taken it upon himself to learn more about this particular sculpture. He'd learned, after taking a quick photo of it with his new phone that now identically matched Tonny's, that the original artist was Pierre-Jules Mêne, a French  _Animalier_ from the late nineteenth century. Will wouldn't have been particularly interested in animal sculptures from the 1800s, but as he continued hallucinating this elk in his mind and surroundings, he found himself fascinated by it. As such, he researched Mêne, and found much information on this prolific sculptor and his anatomical animals, but nothing of note about this particular stag. For some reason it seemed to be haunting him, chasing him through his dreams as much as bothering him in reality. For now, it was giving him something other than fornicating gastropods to focus on, so at least it was proving beneficial to his current situation. His eyes slowly drifted three or so inches to the right to refocus on Hannibal who seemed perturbed by his question going unanswered. His eyes were still narrowed, and Will suddenly snapped out of his drifting thoughts and back into the psychiatrist's office.

“Your farm, Will. Are you in need of a vacation from your vacation?” Hannibal cocked his head, strumming his fingers on his notebook, waiting patiently for Will’s response. He was logging away this very distant and inaccessible version of his friend. It was most unusual.

Still a bit disoriented as his thoughts now included vacations in Copenhagen with his new snail-covered pet stag, Will forced himself to actually respond to Hannibal's inquiry this time. “Oh, no. It’s not that. And the farm’s not _just_ a vacation from the world for me. It's my life now,” he insisted. “And I’m just curious about Copenhagen.” A contrived smile crept across his face.

“You know what they say about curiosity, Will,” teased Hannibal, still unconvinced that this question was simply frivolous.

“But _satisfaction_ brings the cat back, so …" Will leaned forward in his chair bent on pressing the subject. "When were you in Copenhagen, Dr. Lecter?” 

Hannibal glared at the man, now perturbed by both Will’s insistence and formality. “I suppose it was the late 80’s,” he finally confessed. “Care to tell me why you're so interested?”

“Not really.”

“What’s this about, Will?” Hannibal leaned forward, mirroring Will’s rather antagonistic posture.

Will shook his head, his face emotionless as he leaned back in his chair, now relaxed. “Nothing, Dr. Lecter.”


	18. How Many Sons

Tonny enters his bedroom, stepping quietly over the threshold as though he’s expecting to be attacked by a creature that lurks within these walls. His eyes and mind fixate on the only illuminated object in the room – his occupied bed. Approaching the mattress, he finally discerns what being lays sprawled out across his sheets. It’s Will – he’s asleep –  his lean, naked body stretched out on his stomach, looking posed over the blankets like the subject of a baroque painting. Tonny slowly reaches the end of the bed, still gawking in lusty awe at the sheer quantity of skin within his sight.

He lowers himself to the bed, hovering his palm over Will’s smooth, bare back, feeling a gentle warmth radiating outwards, filling the room with a sultry heat. Fingers delicately tease Will’s skin, tracing the contours of his body from his thigh to his shoulder, as Tonny listens intently for the faint whimpers of pleasure that escape both their parted lips. He leans close enough to taste the skin of Will’s hip, nibbling and licking his musky flesh.

Will lifts his head to look lazily up from his resting place, his eyes meeting the gaze of the man at his back. Returning his head to the pillow, he reaches behind him to lightly graze Tonny’s warm hand as it pulls from him to reach down to the floor. Fingers work through the pockets of Will's discarded pants and retrieve a wallet. The hand withdrawals back to Tonny, carefully removing a credit card and dollar bill before dropping the wallet – a useless, perfunctory object – back to the floor to be abandoned. His focus returns to Will who stares sleepily at him through drooping eyelids.

Tonny smiles and leans forward, kissing Will’s head through his soft, unkempt brown hair which clings to his dampened forehead. He reaches down and into his own pocket to fish out a tiny round bag of cocaine. Will watches, unmoving though still grinning as he calmly breathes in the warm, wet air of the room.

Tonny opens the bag and scoops a small mound of powder on the corner of the credit card. Crawling up to Will, he offers it to him, holding it just barely under the man's nose. Will leans forward and sniffs, returning once more to his pillow and tenderly rubbing the side of his nose with his thumb.

After carefully pouring a pile of cocaine on the small of Will’s back, Tonny closes the bag again, pocketing what remains of this thrilling indulgence. He glances up to Will who grins playfully back through languid, tired eyes as he tries not to disturb the cool crumbling mound balanced on his skin. Tonny spreads the cocaine delicately across Will’s back, cutting through the powder to form three lines. Like the wallet, the card is tossed to the floor to be forgotten. Tonny’s focus now falls on the crisp new dollar bill that he softens gently in his hand. He furls the bill slowly up his thigh, forming it into a thin straw. He rolls it between his fingers as he peeks up at Will, winking at the man still sprawled out across his bed. In an attempt to not move, Will bites down on his knuckle, suppressing a coy smile and flirtatious chuckle.

Leaning over Will's warm naked body and bringing the straw to his nose, Tonny snorts two lines off Will’s back, grinning with pleasure as Will’s body quivers in an attempt to stifle more amusement. He inhales the last line and licks his tongue slowly over the skin, lapping up the remaining powder that clings to the man's back. He turns to Will who is still for a moment and forcefully kisses him, driving his bitter, drug-covered tongue into his mouth. They bite and touch, groping and fondling each other until Tonny unexpectedly hears a faint thumping outside the bedroom door. He pulls away to eye the doorway, curious as to the origin of this growling just outside their ethereal seclusion. He stands, now dazed and disoriented, and walks calmly to the door, silently opening it lest he disturbs the beast that lurks behind it.

Stepping into the hall, he follows the thumping down the steps to the front door now open to the darkness beyond it. A low guttural grunting is just outside and it matches the rhythmic pant of his own stuttering breath. He steps out onto the poorly lit porch and sees nothing but obscurity.

Down the steps, he trails the noise into a patch of trees beyond the house. His feet, bare and stumbling, ache on the frozen ground as he meanders over broken stick and leaves, wandering through the dense trees.

The moon is his only source of light, and Tonny stumbles around the dark forest following the grunting that now surrounds him. He steps out from behind a tree, and turns, backing into another and looks over his shoulder. There, in the deep blackness, he locks eyes with a towering elk stag staring at him through the undergrowth. Its antlers glint black in the moonlight, and it snorts vehemently at him, releasing clouds of breath into the bitter, cold air.

Tonny steadily approaches the stag with morbid fascination. It huffs once more, loudly hammering the ground with a heavy hoof, forcing Tonny to look down at the ground in front of him. A mound of blood-soaked fur – pitch black and glistening – lay in front of him. He approaches it cautiously, noticing the slight erratic movement of its chest rising and falling. The dying body of an adolescent elk lay mutilated and gored at his feet.

Will woke up frantic and in a panic. Cold sweat dripped off his chin and his breathing was staggered, heaving in his chest. A wave of nausea coursed through his body and his throat was dry and hoarse from screaming as he slept. He sat up and fumbled for his glasses. The dim light of dawn was just barely breaking over the sky and his room was cold, the air crisp, and it bit his lungs with every intake of breath. He threw his legs over the edge of the bed and sat dazed, panting as he waited for his trembling body to calm.

He rubbed his face with his hands, trying to relax and slow his racing heart. His chest, heavy and thick, felt bruised and he choked as he tried to deeply inhale. The walls of his bedroom felt unfamiliar, warping and twisting as they closed in on him. Saliva and an acrid metallic sourness filled his mouth and he dropped to the floor, grabbing the trash bin by his bed. Gagging, he heaved into the bin, his gut clenching in knots as it emptied his stomach. He coughed and spit and finally sat back on the floor, leaning against the bed until his body settled and he steadied his staggering breath. That room, that blue and frigid room, was finally beginning to look familiar to him. His hands jerkily grasped at his carpet under him, grounding himself to this now recognizable place. The rough fibers of the rug, however, sent a burning sensation through his gripping fingers. The heat, though painful, warmed his skin and he glanced around the room searching for more. His eyes fell on his bedroom door, knowing exactly where he could find more, and he crawled sluggishly across the floor towards his escape. He reached the door, gripping the knob, and hoisted his listless body to its feet. _I shouldn’t do this,_ he thought, but his hand refused to listen, turning the knob in spite of himself. As though atrophied, his arms and legs hung limply from his body forcing him to lean against the wall as he stumbled laboriously down the hall.

Briefly collecting himself before opening the next door, he swallowed back a visceral fear mounting in his belly and attempted to clear his racing, frantic mind. There was nothing to be afraid of. There lurked no demons here, no horned monsters or devils in this room, just a man and his child – a placid and sympathetic place. He pushed in the door with a faltering step and gently closed it behind him with a click. Lumbering across the darkened room, he found his way to the edge of Tonny’s bed. He climbed in and covered himself with the blanket, deeply inhaling the slightly warmer air of his room. His mind slowly relaxed as his skin melted in the radiating heat emanating from Tonny’s sleeping body. He suddenly tensed as Tonny stirred and rolled over. The man’s eyes remained closed, however, and Will poured over the relaxed and softened features of his sleeping face. A serenity engulfed him and Will exhaled a thick, raspy breath trapped within his lungs as he closed his burning eyes. He reached out, groping through the sheets for Tonny’s wrist. Upon finding and grasping it within his hand, he fell restlessly back to sleep.  


	19. Repent the Evils I have done

Gradually descending the darkened staircase, he stares down the hall at a dull light flickering from an open door. Stumbling through the shadows of the hallway, he approaches the lit room to survey the smoky scene within. On an old threadbare couch along the far wall sits Frank, cutting lines of cocaine on a large hand mirror across his lap, occasionally glancing up at a television perched on an upturned bucket in the corner of the room. The television glows and groans as two women suck and fist the cock of a man who runs his stubby fingers through their messy blonde hair, pulling them against his groin. At the other end of the couch is a young boy, shirtless, his hand thrust in his pants as he lustfully stares at the television, frantically stroking himself.

On the floor by the glass table littered with beer bottles, plastic bags, and food wrappers, lays Ø, shirtless and on top of a groping, squirming girl. The two grunt and moan into each other’s mouths as they fondle one another under their disheveled clothes. Tonny stares at the pair, his lips parting and his hand stroking his thigh, as they begin to disrobe, laughing and tossing their unneeded clothing to the floor. The boy on the couch turns his attention away from the television to lecherously stare at the writhing couple as the girl takes Ø’s cock in her mouth. Frank suddenly snort a line from the mirror, drawing Tonny’s attention away from the lewd and lecherous acts elsewhere in the room.

He approaches Frank, plucking the straw from his sweaty fingers. As he lifts the mirror, it momentarily slips from his grasp and flips, dumping the cocaine across Frank’s lap. Curses and snarls erupt from the man’s lips as he attempts to shift in a way to avoid dropping more cocaine to the floor. Shoving Frank back against the couch, Tonny kneels to the floor between his knees. He rubs his hand across his neck as he leans forwards and snorts cocaine out of the creases of Frank’s pants. He looks up, the sounds of the room now muffled in his ears, and hears laughter – faint and obscured. Frank is laughing and staring at Tonny with depraved and burning red eyes as he lights a cigarette. He takes a long deep drag, an ember blooming and ash falling to his chest, and blows smoke down into Tonny’s face in his lap. Coughing and wincing at the bitter breath, Tonny leans back down to snort more powder as cold clammy hands slide onto the back of his head, scratching painfully across his scalp. Through the dampened air surrounding him, he hears a low rasping moan that drips with a demoralizing cruelty.

Tonny awoke with a start, hearing Aksel suddenly wail in his crib. He sat up just long enough to watch the baby turn, lay back down, and settle. He panted and blinked his sticky eyes, wondering where he was and how he got here. As his mind slowly remembered his painful secrets, he swallowed back the stuttering sob caught in the back of his throat. His head was throbbing and he cradled it in his hand, working his fingers through his hair to feel the gaping scar across his scalp. He slowly reclined back in bed and rolled over. He suddenly gasped and recoiled as he noticed the body lying next to him. Will was asleep on his stomach, his face turned away from him.

A tingle fluttered through an ache in his chest and his still-trembling hand anxiously rubbed and massaged his own shoulder, stared at the back of Will’s neck. What was he doing in here? It had seemed that Will considered their drunken exploration of each other’s bodies weeks ago, to be an enormous mistake. They had fought afterward, though Tonny didn’t fully remember what it had been about. He’d wanted to continue physically consoling each other, but Will seemed less than interested; he seemed downright disgusted by the prospect. But now, with the man helping himself to Tonny’s bed, it seemed like his mind was changing and Tonny felt a sudden desperation to touch him. He inched closer and pressed his lips to Will's shoulder, quietly inhaling the scent of his shirt – sweet though tinged with sweat. When he slowly withdrew his face, he noticed a bloody smear remained on the shirt. He reached up and felt his face, meeting a warm wet gush of blood from his nose. He stood and quietly made his way to the bathroom, gently latching the door behind him.

Hanging his bloody chin over the sink, he studied his pale and sunken face in the mirror, watching blood still actively drip from his nose into the sink. Bright red streaks and arching drops painted the porcelain under his face, forming a grisly yet exotic pattern, swirling towards the drain. He drew deep breaths through his mouth, still panting from the unsettling nature of his nightmare. _I gotta stop,_ he thought as he stared at his dripping nose. He hadn’t gotten a bloody nose from anything other than a blow to the face in years. He rubbed his cheeks, watching a pool form in the sink, unwilling to stop this unexpected bloodletting. He noticed now that his hands, which he’d bled on moments ago, were also red. He stared at his bloody hands until his eyes lost focus and began to well up with tears.

He flinched at a sudden knock and he quickly turned to stare at the bathroom door. His pulse raced as he apprehensively reached to unlock the knob, still dangling his dripping head over the sink. The door gradually opened and Will peered in at the lurid scene, his mouth falling open as he looked upon Tonny’s blood-covered face and hands. He stopped, a sympathetic frown on his face, and quietly closed the door behind him. Tonny turned back to the mirror, watching Will behind him as they both listened to the faint rhythmic tapping of blood dripping into the sink.

Overwhelmed with the sight of blood so soon after his nightmare, Will glanced away to briefly collect himself, inadvertently pressing his cheek against the smear on his shoulder. He inspected it before his gaze returned to Tonny and he approached him, their eyes sharing a look of painfully exhausted despondency. Will retrieved a washcloth from the shelf on the wall and wet it, washing down the bloody pool that had collected by the drain. He held the warm cloth to Tonny’s face, carefully wiping away the fresh red blood from his mouth and chin as he cradled the back of Tonny’s neck, gently fingering his hair. When finished, he draped the cloth over the sink and returned his eyes to Tonny, studying his guilt-stricken face.

Though his face was now wiped clean, Will continued rubbing Tonny’s neck, his hand slowly migrating to hold the man’s jaw in his palm, stroking his thumb over his now-bloodless lips. Tonny whimpered at Will’s commiserating touch and as his thumb passed over his mouth, he kissed it. A huff off delight suddenly erupted from Will, breaking the silence in the room, and he smiled at the unexpected peck. Tonny grinned at the sound of Will’s amusement and the softening of his face, a warmth growing in his chest. He inched closer, lieing his head on Will’s shoulder and wrapping his arms around him.

Will swallowed down his sudden apprehension, his arms hesitating over Tonny until he finally embraced him, pulling him into his chest. The two held each other, weakened and exhausted but for some reason no longer vexed by the state of their own consciousness.


	20. “I don’t need intimacy, Hannibal.”

“Are you still having nightmares, Will?” asked Hannibal, cocking his head and staring at Will’s fidgeting hand.

Will chewed his tongue and nodded slowly. “Yes,” he answered. He stared at his own hand tapping incessantly on the arm of his chair. He pulled it to his lap to restrain it with his other hand. _Answering yes is going to encourage him, you know that?_ Of course he knew that, but the nightmares were getting worse – more often and more elaborate. He was vomiting and having full blown panic attacks in the middle of the night now and he desperately needed answers. However, navigating a session concerning his dreams and attempting to _not_ bring up nudity, snorting cocaine, or crawling into bed with his employee, might prove challenging.

“Would you like to tell me about them?” asked Hannibal, leaning back in his chair and crossing his legs.

Will inhaled deeply. “Not really,” he said exhaling the breath. Although, maybe he did want to get Hannibal’s interpretation of his most recent nightmare. There had to be a lot of information to glean from a discussion about it – watching himself, as Tonny, caress his own naked body and snort cocaine off his own ass … Or no, maybe there wasn’t. Will shook his head dismissing the thought. There would be no mention of that. Will was still reeling from psychoanalyzing _himself_ over that one.

“Is there something different about them? If you describe your hallucinations to me, perhaps we can discern if your required solitude is helping,” suggested Hannibal.

“Well … as for the solitude ... I’m not really alone anymore,” he said, rubbing his face and hoping to steer the subject somewhere a little more benign.

“No – I suppose not. And how are you dealing with the stress of housing the new tenant?”

Will paused and chewed his bottom lip. This topic was no better, in fact, it was far worse. His lip curled as he thought about his _new tenant._ “I think I’m dealing with the stress as best I can.” He cleared his throat and thought about how he _was_ dealing with the stress … by fucking around with his new occupant. Will covered his eyes with his hand. They hadn’t done much – at least that’s what Will kept insisting. Other than their initial rendezvous in which they unceremoniously came all over each other, there had been very little contact between the two. Sure, Will did crawl into bed with Tonny several times a week now, but they didn’t necessarily do anything … other than occasionally touching each other and that was all more like amicable consolation than anything sexual … And besides, everyone dealt with stress differently. He had never explored attempting to assuage his breakdowns with physical comfort before, so it was all simply an experiment to him … an animalistic and wildly inappropriate experiment.

“Could the added stress or anxiety of having another person around be aggravating your nightmares?” Hannibal furrowed his brow watching Will struggle more and more with each question.

“Perhaps,” he said, scratching his beard and neck nervously, still withholding information, “I don’t know.”

“Is there something you’re not telling me, Will?” He was sensing the clear and obvious hesitation in Will’s voice. “I should hope that you feel comfortable sharing your life with me. I’m only here to help you, Will, and remaining secretive is only hurting yourself.”

“This is …,” he began before backtracking, “I think this issue I have is more _personal_ than I care to share, uh, with you,” he said after a long drawn-out pause. If there was one aspect of his life he was going to refuse to share, it would be anything even remotely sexual. However, he wasn’t entirely sure why this was such an uncomfortable topic for him. Psychiatrists often dealt with sexual disorders or strange desires. Will knew objectively that he had no reason not to share everything with Hannibal, but imagining the man possibly seeing him in a sexual light made him feel awkward and exceedingly uncomfortable. He was already questioning Hannibal’s affection for him since the man was so open and willing to refer to their relationship in more and more amiable terms. There was no need to brazenly flaunt his sexuality in front of him ... Right?

Hannibal nodded and smiled. “I understand your desire for privacy, Will, but this is affecting you deeply. Everything about your demeanor has been altered since our last session. Whatever it is, I assure you, I am more than willing to discuss it at great lengths if you need to. Please don't feel embarrassed." He cleared his throat as he watched Will shift nervously in his chair. He smiled and bit his lower lip. "Could this secret you’re carrying be weighing on you more than you realize? ”

“I know it’s weighing on me,” said Will, crossing his arms, “I can’t stop thinking about it. I can barely gather my own thoughts without it rearing up and taking over. I feel elated and simultaneously crushed.” He stopped and closed his eyes, exhausted and weary, unbelieving that he was saying any of this out loud. “I’ve never handled human relationships well,” he finally admitted, opening his eyes again. “They bring out and emphasize my darker understanding of emotions and I end up at the mercy of the other person’s whim. I feel … _trapped_ in relationships despite still desiring one.” He shook his head, confusing even himself and ran his hand through his hair.

Hannibal nodded again and shifted in his chair. “It is natural to feel confused or even frightened at the beginning of a new relationship. They can be stressful, and you might feel torn between your desire for solitude and your need for intimacy.”

“I don’t _need_ intimacy, Hannibal,” snapped Will. “Crave it on occasion, maybe, but _need?”_ He scoffed and shook his head. He most definitely didn’t _need_ intimacy. He enjoyed sex – he wasn’t a eunuch – and camaraderie, sure, that was pleasant, but he refused to admit that he was at the mercy of some sort of _need_ for intimacy. He _needed_ solitude, isolation, privacy. He was a logical being, not ruled by emotions … he swallowed back the denial percolating in his throat. Friendship, though, he was enjoying that. He liked the idea of having a few friends he could trust. Friendship was always difficult for Will to acquire and impossible for him to maintain. He was close to Hannibal – they shared a certain sophisticated affinity for how the mind worked … but Tonny? Though they’d had sex, he wasn’t sure he could consider him a friend.

“Do you feel above it? As though it’s something you can live without?” He shrugged and continued, “You suggested to me that feeling intimacy – a connection to another, whether physical or otherwise – was important to you. Did I misunderstand you?”

“No, I mean – I don’t know.” He scratched his neck, sighing and pulled off his glasses to rub his eyes. “I want to be able to connect with people.” He returned his glasses to his face. “And I feel like I’m learning how to bond with ... Aksel for instance, even though he’s only a baby. Can I live without intimacy? I have before – for many years. Could I continue to live like that? … I don’t know, probably. I have my hobbies to keep me busy – my dogs. And for the record, I admitted that I wanted an intimate relationship on the phone and under duress to … _friend_ Hannibal, not _psychiatrist_ Hannibal. Do I need to explicitly make that distinction next time?”

Hannibal softly chuckled and restated his question, clearly and concise. “But do you _want_ to live without intimacy, Will?”

Will paused mulling over this question. The answer was no. Absolutely not. He wanted that bond, that trust, that overwhelming feeling of being understood by someone else. No one understood him. He struggled daily to understand himself and that was a burden he’d never felt comfortable placing on anyone else. While relationships caused an insurmountable amount of pain and stress to Will, he still wanted them, he’d just been a failure at nurturing them enough to sustain them in a healthy and meaningful way. He thought about Tonny and what they shared. Was it even a real relationship? Were they sharing intimacy or just physical comfort? Was there a difference? He'd never pictured himself with a person like Tonny – the man was uneducated, obnoxiously rebarbative, and oftentimes embarrassingly blunt – so what the hell was Will doing with him? They never spoke beyond brief discussions about the farm, or dinner, or Aksel – a topic near and dear to Will’s heart. He fully accepted the blossoming love he felt for the boy, but Tonny? “Well, no,” he admitted, “I _want_ intimacy, but I’m not sure what I have right now is the kind of intimacy I crave.”

“Relationships come in many forms, Will, as does intimacy and attraction. Could this relationship be something that your subconscious requires rather than your conscious mind?” Hannibal leaned forward ogling Will, unblinking, a soft smile on his lips. “Perhaps _this_ relationship is your body’s way of telling you something your mind is unwilling to admit.” He suddenly grimaced at a memory and briefly glanced at his watch, leaning back in his chair with a huff. “I have a patient now, but I would like to continue this discussion. If I canceled my next appointment would you be willing to stay? Perhaps we could discuss this as friends.”

Will’s brows raised, a little surprised that Hannibal was willing to turn away patients to talk about his fucked up relationships. “Uh, I’m actually driving to Quantico after this – to sing for my supper, so to speak. I was told I could lecture part-time if I need to, and well, money’s a bit tight at the moment.” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees with one final thought bothering him. “What if I don’t want my subconscious to want what I’m craving?” He stared at Hannibal, his eyes pleading for any aid that could help him understand why he found himself attracted to Tonny for no other apparent reason than for his physical solace.

Hannibal nodded and looked briefly at the floor before his spoke, “When it comes to the subconscious, I’m not so sure you have a choice, Will.”


	21. Cattle Stray and Break Their Necks

“Have you seen Frankie?” asked Will, coming in from the biting cold outside. He rubbed his freezing hands together and joined Tonny in the warm living room, glancing at the floor, taking stock of the dogs lazily asleep by the blazing fire. Tonny ignored him, still lounging on the couch, himself, fully engrossed in his phone, Aksel asleep on his chest. Will leaned over the back of the couch irked to not be getting an answer from him. “Tonny,” he quietly snapped, “Frankie – have you seen him?” Tonny barely shook his head in response. Will worrying about dogs was, honestly, nothing out of the ordinary. “He wasn’t on the porch last night and he’s not out there now,” said Will as he stood by the front door scratching his head. He peered out the window into the darkness, rubbing his forehead, trying to remember the last time he saw him. “Maybe I should go look for him.” He turned back to Tonny and shrugged, hoping to get a suggestion from him.

“He’ll be back in the morning. You can wait until it's light out, right? Look tomorrow?” he said, still staring at his phone. Will’s late night dog wrangling was also nothing new. Tonny felt like the dogs were probably causing him more stress than alleviating it, but Will loved them so he was often convinced to see them in a slightly less disgusted light. A sudden bang of a slamming cupboard door startled Tonny into finally looking up. Will wasn’t at the door.

“No. I don’t think I should wait to look,” he shouted from the kitchen, “I think it’s been a couple days. If he’s hurt, this cold could kill him.” Will was searching under the sink for a flashlight, tipping cleaners and tools out all over the floor. When he found one, he returned to the front door. “I’ll be back in a couple hours. I’m gonna go look for him.”

“Wait!” called Tonny under his breath to avoid disturbing Aksel. Will stopped and turned to him. “It’s dark, and cold as fuck. What are you gonna do? Walk the fence alone … at night?” He shook his head and scoffed at Will’s ridiculous plan.

“I’m taking the truck,” declared Will. “So I’m going to _drive_ the fence alone at night.”

“Shit, I don’t trust you to not die. I’m coming with you,” said Tonny, sitting up carefully to keep Aksel on his shoulder. His phone dropped to the floor and he gently rose, scooping up Aksel’s blanket from the couch before heading upstairs to put the baby to bed in his crib. When he returned, he was wearing his sweatshirt and plopped down in the chair by the door to pull on his boots. He looked up to notice Will sheepishly smiling at him. “What?”

“Nothing,” said Will, shaking his head and turning away. He cleared his throat, opening the door and the two men slipped out into the bitter February air.

They searched for almost an hour with no luck, driving along the fence and scanning the empty frozen pastures for anything remotely dog shaped. Trying to spot a black dog in the middle of the night was proving quite difficult. Their flashlights scoured the frozen pond for holes or cracked ice, Will wincing in pain at the prospect of Frankie being wet in this temperature, or worse, trapped under ice. Tonny attempted to make Will see reason and go back to the warmth and security of the farmhouse as their hands were numb and lungs aching, but Will refused, so the pair pressed on. The last place left to search was down by the stream bank at the back of the property so they hopped in the truck and headed back the dirt trail.

Tonny inched the truck slowly along the stream embankment while Will shined his flashlight down through the trees and over the water. They crept along, whistling and calling for the lost dog when Will suddenly saw the brief flash of two illuminated eyes in the bushes by the stream.

“Stop,” he whispered to Tonny holding up his hand. “Did you see those eyes?”

“Yeah,” confirmed Tonny reaching for his flashlight. “But, I don’t think that’s–”

Before Tonny could finish his thought, Will unlatched his door and called to Frankie. He hastily stepped out of the truck, realizing only then that they were driving right along the top of the embankment at the water’s edge. His feet slid out from under him, slipping on ice and loose dirt, and he plunged, rolling over rocks and catching on tree roots, landing with a watery thud in the shallow stream fifteen feet below.

Tonny threw the truck in park and frantically jumped out, hearing the sudden splash of Will landing in the freezing water.

“Damn it!” cursed Will from the darkness below. He was twisted and frigid, laying on his back in the stream, dazed and wondering what the hell just happened. “Um, Tonny? Tonny!” he shrieked when he realized he couldn’t move.

“Will, I’m here! What the fuck?!” he shouted back, scrambling to the edge of the embankment. He immediately broke out in a freezing sweat despite the temperatures and frantically scanned the darkness below him, cursing the clouds of breath that hung in the air obscuring his useless view. He could see nothing from his perch at the top of the hill and a sudden wave of nausea flowed through him. Trembling, he hectically searched his mind for what he was supposed to do. _Where is he? Holy fuck! Where the fuck is he?!_ His feet were paralyzed, stuck firmly to the solid ground, though his head was disembodied as he peered down into the gloom below him. Will had fallen into a black abyss. “Are you ok?!”

“What the hell do you think?” Will groaned. He flailed against the water and yelped in pain as he realized there was something seriously wrong with his wrist. He was such a fucking idiot for not realizing the edge of the stream was _right_ there. He struggled in the frigid water, splashing frantically in an attempt to get up. A sharp, gut-wrenching twinge bolted up his leg as he thrashed and he carefully slid his hand down his thigh, horrified to discover why he was nauseated from the pain. “I think I bitched up my leg …” he sighed, “And before you fucking say a goddamn word, _yes_ I realize now that it was, in fact, a deer – a motherfucking deer! A motherfucking cocksucking dear!”

Tonny’s legs wobbled and he grabbed the truck to avoid joining Will in the stream. He exhaled a long held breath and suddenly broke into laughter at Will’s bizarre choice of profanities in this seemingly dire situation. At least Will’s humor was still intact.

When the adrenaline rush began to wane, Will suddenly became hyper aware of how much frigid stream water surrounded him. “Jesus christ, the water’s cold! Fuck! Get me out! Goddamn it! It’s cold!” he shrieked, scrambling to rise without injuring himself. He thrashed and pulled himself to the edge of the rocky bank.   

“Stop being a pussy,” hollered Tonny into the darkness as he retrieved his flashlight from the truck. He was still unsure how serious Will’s injuries were, but Will was still talking and complaining about being cold … so he seemed basically unchanged; he was probably fine.

“Oh, you little shit!” he yelled back, his hand slipping on the muddy earth at the edge of the water. “Get your ass down here and help me!”

There was a certain revelry in pissing Will off. Tonny loved it. There was something about his contemptuous sneer, his grinding teeth, his unamused look of disdain that Tonny found beyond hilarious. He loved mocking him, teasing him, and making him wildly uncomfortable. Will was too uptight; he needed to lighten up and Tonny had taken it upon himself to make sure he did just that. “I like it when you talk about my ass. Do it again, Will!”

Will huffed, trying not to laugh at this asshole goading him from his relatively warm dry perch. He pulled himself up to his knees, carefully avoiding injuring his already aching leg. “I’m not afraid to beat your ass, Tonny!” he shrieked into the darkness. “Shit,” he mumbled, realizing he inadvertently played right into Tonny’s immature joke.

Tonny laughed through his relieved grin as he walked along the embankment searching with his flashlight for a path or a dip down to the stream. “I need to take a piss first,” he teased over his shoulder, his voice wandering downstream.

“Fuck you, you cocksucking son of a bitch! Get the fuck down here!” Will screamed back.

“Ok. That’s not even insulting,” he chuckled, and he heard Will laugh in the darkness. “Fine, you little bitch, I’m fucking coming,” he shouted, ambling back towards Will, still hunting for a trail in the frigid darkness.

“I, uh, think I broke my leg,” calmly hollered Will up the embankment. He was fairly certain though he wasn’t positive since his entire body was numbing from the freezing water. He felt down his pant leg only to stop at an unnatural bulge on his calf. “Oh, yeah. Yeah, I did …”

Tonny grimaced at Will’s revelation and felt his stomach churn. He quickened his pace, finally finding a steep path down to the water. He trudged his way upstream to find Will, soaked and shivering, backed up against the muddy wall he’d tumbled down. He was standing with one foot in the water and stabilizing himself with one hand tightly grasping roots that protruded from the dirt behind him.

“Fu-Fuck … man, come on!” He shivered when he finally saw the light of Tonny’s flashlight bouncing towards him. Tonny ran to him, suddenly halting as he came into view. His mouth fell aghast at how much Will looked like a pathetic, frightened animal.

“Jesus, Will!” He frowned, surveying Will’s wounds with his light, growing sick as he wondered about their severity. He rushed to him, wrapping his arms around him and helped him limp out of the water. “Why were you joking with me? This is serious,” he said, warming Will’s cheek against his own.

“Just ... get me … to the truck,” he demanded through chattering teeth.

Tonny dropped the flashlight to the ground and pulled off his hoodie. He fumbled in the darkness, gently tugged it over Will’s head, helping him feed his right hand through the sleeve. Sharp hisses of pain escaped Will each time his left arm was jostled by Tonny. “Did you break your arm, too?” he asked, softening his movements in case there was something else horribly wrong with Will.

“Wrist, I think,” said Will, pressing his injured arm against his chest. Tonny straightened the sweatshirt over Will’s cradled arm and retrieved his flashlight from the ground. Will leaned against Tonny, warming himself with what little heat remained in his now sopping wet sweatshirt.

Tonny draped Will’s arm up and over his neck and the two hobbled back up the stream. He couldn’t believe Will hadn’t told him how cold and wet he was. Well, Will _had_ told him, Tonny had just turned it into a joke. He nuzzled his head against Will, inhaling his new waterlogged aroma of mud mixed with the scent of damp cigarettes from his dirty hoodie.

“I think I’m gonna fucking die,” stuttered Will, and Tonny chuckled at his overly dramatic tone. “I know I can’t make it back up that fucking hill.” He sniffed and gawked in awe at the blackness looming over them as they approached the steep path.

“You're fine, Will ...,” huffed Tonny, finally coming to the trail he’d made when slid down to rescue his pathetic and now-broken boss. “My skull was cracked with a goddamn bat and I didn’t cry like a fuckin’ baby about it.” He re-established his grip around Will’s back as he pulled him closer to his t-shirt-clad body.

Will’s posture slightly perked at his comment and he turned to Tonny with furrowed brows. He wasn’t going to press this topic as his body was burning with a numbness that he was sure was going to result in him losing a few toes to hypothermia, but he did log away this strange revelation to discuss at a less desperate hour.

Tonny shifted his weight, slightly lifting Will at the hip. “What do you weigh?”

“Um, one sixty ... but I’m soaking wet, so a little more,” joked Will, his teeth still chattering. He paused to think a moment and then corrected himself, “Like, um, seventy-two kilos.”

Tonny chuckled and grinned at both Will’s unwavering lightheartedness in this serious situation and his seemingly instant metric conversion. “I can put you on my shoulders, ok? Don’t get tense,” he instructed, and Will nodded as he finally slid his injured arm carefully through the hoodie sleeve. Tonny popped the flashlight in his mouth and gently turned Will to face him in the darkness. He grasped Will’s uninjured hand, crouched, and pulled him behind his neck, draping him across his shoulders and back.

Will hissed and gasped, cursing loudly into the darkness, his broken arm and leg now dangling and knocking against Tonny’s body. Carefully trudging up the hill, attempting to avoid roots and rocks, Tonny finally crested the top of the hill. He spit the flashlight to the ground, and gently lowered Will to the base of a tree and crouched down beside him.

“I’m gonna get the truck, ok?” he said, warmly rubbing Will’s arms. “You ok here?”

Will grinned and looked away from Tonny’s tender, concerned gaze, absentmindedly licking his lips. He grimaced and spit out the mud that apparently covered his face. “Yeah, I’m ok,” he said, returning his eyes to Tonny.

“Yeah?” he asked, nodding his head and Will nodded back his confirmation. Tonny sighed and leaned towards Will, tucking his flashlight in WIll’s hand as he kissed him on the forehead. He quickly stood and sprinted back to the truck.

In the cold darkness that surrounded him, Will felt his face grow warm and he shook his head at how ridiculous it was for a grown man – and injured, frozen, muddy, grown-ass man – to be blushing over a delicate peck on his forehead. His inability to escape his unceasing awkwardness was truly astounding to him. He fingered the lit flashlight in his hand and smiled. It was a sweet gesture, though, and he couldn’t help but feel doted on even if also a little foolish.

Moments later, Tonny pulled up in the truck and hopped out. He lifted a still somewhat grinning Will off the ground, hoisting him into the cab. Blasting the heater, the two finally made it back to the farmhouse. Tonny parked in the driveway and flicked on the dome light, his mouth falling agape as he inspected the damage done to Will by the fall.

Will was completely soaked, the muddy water from his drenched clothes having seeped through Tonny’s sweatshirt. Dirt streaks and muck covered the whole left side of his body. His hair was plastered to his face and there was blood dried around his nose. He looked like he’d just survived a car crash off a cliff. And yet, Tonny noted, Will’s spirits were still ridiculously high considering this mess. He still had a goddamn smile on his face. Shaking his head in awe, Tonny leaned over, gently pushing wet hair out of Will's eyes, his fingers lingering for a moment on his cheek as he studied not the man's injuries but the modeled brown flecks in his clear blue-green eyes. His thumb gently grazed Will's lips as Tonny released a barely audible whimper and a sigh of relief.

“What are you doing?” asked Will, narrowing his eyes.

Tonny snapped out of his captivation and quickly lowered his hand. “What?” he barked, leaning back into his seat.

“The kiss, the hair touching, your jokes – I may be a little socially inept but I can still tell when someone's flirting with me,” he said, tilting his head.

Tonny’s shoulders fell, his face flushing, and he looked back at the steering wheel to now avoid Will’s eyes. “So?” he said, glancing back at him briefly. “I’m not flirting with you.”

Will raised his eyebrows and stared at the side of Tonny’s muddy face. “You sure?” he wondered, “Because it’s okay if you are; I’m not criticizing you.”

“Can you just shut up?” he snapped, running his tingling hands over his thighs. He curled his lip and scratched the back of his head, hoping Will would just drop the whole goddamn thing.

Will continued to eye him. Of course he wasn’t going to drop it. “I mean, I’m just saying that I’m flattered, Tonny, that’s all. You don’t have to be embarrassed.”

“Shut the fuck up, Will!”

“What?! I’m saying it’s okay and that I appreciate the attention. No one flirts with me … I think it’s – I don’t know – thoughtful … fuck, I don’t know.” Will sighed and looked out the windshield at the brightly lit windows of his farmhouse up the hill. He could hear Tonny scoffing beside him. “I’m sorry, Tonny, I just wanted to express my appreciation for your help and … _attentiveness_ tonight and … other nights.” He scratched his neck and peered over at Tonny. “I just don’t want you to think that I’m rejecting you or something … because I’m not. I’m just dealing with my own issues. I don’t know what’s going on with me or what you’re expecting me to say … or do … with you–”

“Fuck, Will! Just _please_ shut the fuck up.” Tonny took a deep calming breath and they both sat in silence, mulling over their now mutual embarrassment.

Will huffed and reached up to adjust his glasses, suddenly realizing they were no longer on his face. “Damn it,” he muttered. Tonny looked over, wrinkling his forehead. “My glasses,” he explained, “they’re back in the stream.”

“Want me to go get ‘em?”

“No, they're probably smashed up anyway … but thanks,” he said, gesticulating towards Tonny for emphasis, “I _appreciate_ the offer.”

Tonny chuckled and sniffed his nose. “Well, you look like shit,” he told him, attempting to smirk.

“Thanks again, same to you.”

Tonny looked in the rearview mirror and realized that he was also covered in mud. “Now what?”

“I guess we pay the hospital another visit,” said Will, motioning down the road with a wince. “Go get Aks and we’ll head out,” he sighed.

Tonny nodded, hopping out of the truck, and bounding up the hill to grab his son.

* * *

Will sat in a wheelchair waiting for Tonny to finish talking to a nurse, strumming his fingers on his cast-covered wrist. They had been there for four goddamn hours and he was exhausted. “Are we done yet?” he snapped, glaring up at Tonny.

“Calm down, Will, she tells me what to do with your sorry ass,” he responded, bouncing Aksel who was still awake even at this incredibly late hour.

The nurse rolled her eyes at Will. “You should be nice to him, Mr. Graham – thank him. He got you here, didn’t he?” she teased and Will huffed, muttering to himself. Tonny smiled at him and dropped Aksel to his lap, grabbing the chair handles and pushed him towards the exit. “Should we expect you boys back again anytime soon?” called the nurse as they stopped in front of the exit.

Tonny turned around and smiled at her. “We’ll play nice,” he shouted back, winking at her and she sighed, shaking her head and continued down the hall away from them.

“You should thank me, Will,” Tonny repeated once they were outside.

“Why the hell did that have to take so fucking long. I’m exhausted,” snapped Will as they reached the truck. He handed Aksel up to Tonny who bucked him in his car seat. He rushed back to Will as he wobbled up to stand on one foot. Tonny helped him get in, tossing his paperwork on the floor. He started the truck and they both noted the time, 4:18 am. “Jesus ...” Will uttered with a yawn.

“You’re tired and hungry and in pain. When we get home, I’ll get you something to eat and help you to bed, ok? Just don't start freaking out. It’ll be fine,” he chuckled, handing Aksel the corner of his knit blanket to suck on.

Will cradled his forehead, leaning on the car door. “I just want a shower … but not tonight.” He peered over at Tonny. “Uh, can you help me shower tomorrow?” Will cringed as he  attempted to imagine a single scenario is which that wouldn’t be a horrible idea.

“Hell yeah, I can,” said Tonny, winking at him.

Will sighed. “God, you act like a horny teenager,” he said, rubbing his forehead again.

“And why’s that bad?” wondered Tonny, “Oh right. Gotta always be an adult. That's one of your fucking rules,” he said with a chuckle and Will scoffed at him.

They got back to the house and once again, Tonny helped Will up the steps to the porch. As they approached the top step, Frankie ran up and licked Will’s hand. “Well goddamn it …” Will huffed, gritting his teeth. His internal berating over his idea to go searching for the bastard began.

“I told you to wait until the morning, you jackass,” snapped Tonny. He smiled at Will, pushing past the dog to the front door.

Will shook his head, hiding his grin. “Just get me upstairs, asshole.”


	22. Enmity Between Two Friends

“Hold fucking still,” said Tonny, snickering as he reached into the bathtub. He was half-heartedly attempting to keep Will standing. The two had been playfully fighting since they got back from the hospital and unfortunately for Will, Tonny currently had the upper hand.

“The water’s too fucking hot!” shrieked Will, twisting away from the steaming spray. He was dangling half in the tub, gripping the curtain so as not to fall to his death into a scalding watery hell. Tonny, on the other hand, was in heaven. It was so easy to get a rise out of Will. Making him shriek and laugh was rapidly becoming his favorite pastime. Nobody had ever played with Tonny like this and he’d do anything to make Will smile. Will was so sad and mopey all the time, it was exhilarating to be able to make him laugh.

Tonny was trying not to laugh, himself, but failing miserably. “Watch your cast and calm down,” he grinned, tapping his lit cigarette in the sink. He was deriving so much pleasure from seeing Will frustrated that he almost felt guilty – _almost._ He was partially, just _partially_ , trying to pay him back for the dog bite.

“Can I just ... let _me_ do the water,” insisted Will, swatting Tonny’s hand from the faucet. He twisted the knob and moaned as the water finally cooled. As much of a fuss as Will put up, he was also relishing these moments of joviality with Tonny. He’d never been around someone who tried so hard to make him smile. It was exciting and new, though sometimes, as in this particular case, painful.

Tonny stood back to snicker and ogle Will’s wet, naked body. Will still had his cast-covered leg dangling out of the tub, and Tonny hissed through his teeth, biting his lip. "God damn that fucking ass," he whispered. “Are you good now?” 

Will peered back over his shoulder, glaring at his lecherous grin. “Are you serious? No, Tonny, I’m not _good._ I’m on one foot, for fuck’s sake. Stop staring at my ass and hold my arm!” Will teetered in the tub, barely vertical. Tonny stuck his cigarette in his grinning mouth and shook his head, grabbing Will’s outstretched arm to stabilize him. His other hand may have started to slide down Will’s back. “I just want this mud off,” pleaded Will, feeling Tonny’s hand sliding farther and farther down his body. Will reached up, grabbing the shower head and pointed it at Tonny’s face, both to put out his unwanted cigarette and to soak the front of him, hopefully washing away any lewd thoughts that may be lurking in his head.

Tonny gasped, his face and shirt now drenched and spit his wet cigarette to the floor of the tub. “Oh, you little shit,” he sneered, letting go of Will to peel off his dripping shirt. He hopped in the tub and restrained Will from behind, playfully kissing and biting at his neck as he held Will’s laughing, relaxing body. His hands wandered down Will’s flesh, groping and playing with his naked body, fondling him as he trailed his tongue and lips over Will’s shoulder and neck.

Neither of them had attempted any sexual contact with the other since their drunken encounter a month ago. Will was, however, still relying on Tonny’s comforting body during his panic attacks in the night, and since the anxiety and nausea brought on by his nightmares weren’t exactly pleasure inducing, Will had found no opportunity to broach the subject of sexual activity between the two. For now, he was quite happy gradually waking up to the smoky, bitter scent of someone else’s skin, his face nestled against the nape of Tonny’s neck and his arms wrapped protectively around him. It was a warm, seductive feeling to be enveloping someone vulnerable in his securing embrace. Knowing that this family – this lost young father and his infant son – was safe and supported within his home was a notion that Will found intoxicating.

Lately, however, more often than not, Will was waking up to Tonny unconsciously humping him as he slept and he had yet to decide how he felt about this situation. On one hand, it was irritating to be exhausted – trying to sleep after a night of vivid nightmares – only to be awoken at four in the morning by someone’s fully erect penis being repeatedly rammed against his fully clothed back … but on the other hand ... he was rapidly learning to enjoy it, much like the playful touches and occasional kisses Tonny surprised him with when the mood randomly struck.

Tonny was absolutely reveling in his playful dalliance with Will – the flirtatious kissing, the random groping, the pre-morning prodding of Will from behind … He was a _physical_ being, relying heavily on the tactile world to provide him with happiness, pleasure, and comfort. He found it in sugary foods, bags of cocaine, and whorehouses, and he was more than happy with this arrangement. But here, in Will’s isolated little bubble, he didn’t have access to his traditional pick-me-ups, so he had to behave and follow the somewhat oppressive rules set forth by a more civilized society to get what he needed to survive. Attempting to not overstep his bounds or take advantage of Will’s generosity, he tried to keep to himself, avoiding topics and situations that may push Will away. He’d only asked for sex once since the night of Will’s trip, and Will had stared at him as though he was convulsing on the floor covered in serpents, so he refused to bring it up ever again.

Now, however, Will was beginning to play _with_ him and this thrilled Tonny to no end. Suddenly Tonny was allowed to place his hand on Will’s back as he reached around him for things on the kitchen counter; Will no longer stood up and left when Tonny’s knee brushed against his on the couch; and sometimes – and Tonny was quite certain about this – he felt Will push his body back into him when he was gently thrusting himself against the man’s ass every morning. Now it wasn’t extreme, these tiny fleeting touches, but for someone alone and lost in a foreign land, it was like a vital lifeline keeping him from the depths of despondency.

Tonny playfully sucked and bit at Will's ear, enamored by this relatively new flirtatious and sexually enticing version of Will. The man was guiding Tonny’s hands now, and touching him back and Tonny was entranced by this feeling of being, not just _tolerated_ by someone, but somewhat _wanted_ by another person, and it sent aching throbs through his chest.

With Will’s attention diverted towards Tonny’s fingers trailing across his stomach under the hot spray of the shower, he reached behind him to fill his hand with shampoo. He returned to Will’s body, using his now slicked hand to gently grip him in his fist, stroking and pulling raspy moans out of Will’s mouth.

“So this is why I keep having to buy shampoo,” noted Will, through an exhausted smile, his voice soft and panting against Tonny’s cheek.

Tonny grinned as he continued to fondle him. “Why do you think I take so many showers?”

Will cocked his head in thought. “Because you spend all day fucking around in a chicken coop, and you end up smelling like wet feathers?” he responded with a snicker.

Tonny hummed his amusement, still sucking on Will’s throat. “Do you wanna come like this,” he whispered into Will’s neck.

Will hesitated, wanting immensely to let Tonny relax and assuage his physical pain with his warm tight fist, but despite his best efforts to ignore his injuries, he couldn’t. “I can barely stand, Tonny, and my whole body aches,” he said against the side of Tonny’s wet face. “I honestly can’t believe you got me hard.”

An unintelligible whisper of understanding, breathed across Will’s neck as Tonny released him, wrapping his arm tightly across Will’s stomach. “I guess I’ll have to do something else …”

Will slowly turned, his eyes narrowing as he grew concerned by what Tonny could mean by that. Suddenly, a cold, wet, heavy sensation flowed over the top of Will’s head as Tonny coated Will’s hair with an inordinate amount of shampoo.

“What the hell ...” said Will, as soap cascaded over his face. Tonny stepped back in the tub, laughing, as he watched Will flail with his uninjured arm to wipe it away before it poured into his eyes. “You bastard! Christ, it’ll never come out!” Will frantically rubbed his over-sudsing hair with his one usable hand, trying desperately to rinse it away before falling over in the tub.

Tonny wildly tousled Will’s lathering hair, as he fought and slapped at him with burning soapy eyes. “I will fucking _kill_ you while your sleep, you fucking bastard!” he shrieked through the blinding suds over his face and head. He slipped on the foam, catching himself on the shower curtain, still attempting to keep his casts from getting neither soaked nor soapy.

“Hey! You said we can’t say that,” said Tonny, laughing at the delightful scene. “I’m offended, Will,” he joked. “And I don’t think I wanna help you anymore.”

Will inhaled a disdainful hiss as Tonny backed away from him, a devilish grin still plastered on his smug face.

Their circus was suddenly interrupted by a loud banging at the front door and the two men froze, their eyes shifting to the open bathroom door. “I got it!” yelled Tonny, hopping out and sprinting from the bathroom. He was looking for a reason to abandon Will to his soapy doom, and this was perfect.

“Uh, no. No! Tonny! Fuck!” Will screamed after him, sliding in the slick tub.

Tonny ignored him, already bounding down the steps, shirtless but at least wearing cargo pants, though they were sudsy and drenched. He ripped open the front door. “What?” he snapped at the two men standing on the porch.

“What the hell?” Jack startled back, still holding the screen door. He tilted his head, studying this half-nude, tattooed man’s somewhat familiar face. He wrinkled his nose and glanced back at the man standing behind him. Hannibal was squinting at Tonny, his head cocked to the side as his posture rigidly straightened.

“What do you want?” pressed Tonny, trying to hurry them off his porch so he could go back to teasing Will in the shower.

“Oh, uh, is Will here? We’re … his friends, here to see him. He said he was hurt?” said a very confused Jack who kept glancing between Tonny and Hannibal, his mouth now agape.

“Uh, yeah.” Tonny chuckled to himself as he visualized Will’s naked body probably splayed out in the tub by now. “Stuck upstairs.” Jack slowly nodded at him as though this somewhat made sense. “You can come in ... I guess,” said Tonny, sneering at this intrusion. He had Will right where he'd wanted him – naked, vulnerable, and still hard. Tonny was looking forward to rejoining him, convincing Will to let him relax him with his mouth, but this unfortunate interruption was delaying that plan.

“You fucking cocksucker! Get the fuck back up here!” came an embittered voice from the upstairs before a crash and a thud resounded through the house. “Damn it!”

Tonny teared up, covering his grinning mouth with his fist attempting to maintain composure. “Did you need something?” he said through laughter, pretending to ignore the commotion upstairs.

 _“Tonny!”_ yelled Will louder, his voice sharp and quite hostile now.

Jack and Hannibal stared at Tonny, their faces twisted in utter horror. “Is that Will?” asked Jack, grimacing and thumbing towards the steps.

“Yup,” confirmed Tonny with a nod. He crossed his arms over his bare chest, delighted by this whole situation. Will had friends, apparently. Weird friends dressed in what he assumed to be formal clothing, suits, at least – bizarre suits. Well, the tall one was in a bizarre suit. They were clean-cut and looked somewhat dignified. He was sure this was going to embarrass the hell out of Will and he was beyond pleased with himself.

“Tonny, I swear to god, man, I will gut you if you don’t help me! Come on! I'm naked, I'm injured, and I’m begging!”

“He’s stuck in the shower,” casually mentioned Tonny as he leaned towards Jack who began to chuckle. He tried to smile at Hannibal but the man glared back at him wholly unamused and frankly disgusted. Tonny ignored his seething glare and nodded his head to the two guests, excusing himself to run upstairs.

Inside the bathroom, he immediately broke into hysterics, staring at a very soapy Will wedged in the tub on his back like an upturned and very angry turtle. His leg cast still dangled out of the tub and he was straining to not get his wrist wet. “For fuck’s sake, Will,” he laughed, hoisting him up and rinsed off the remnants of the wet and soapy mud.

“Who was at the door?” Will asked, sighing with relief that Tonny at least came back.

“Some black guy and some old guy in an ugly fucking suit,” said Tonny, wiping down Will’s chest.

Will shook his head at the unusual and completely befuddling description.

“They said they’re your friends.”

Will covered his eyes as he snickered. “Jack and Hannibal?”

“Hannibal? What the fuck kind of name is that?!”

“He’s my psychiatrist,” snapped Will, shoving Tonny away from him. _You spell Tonny with two fucking Ns, you moron._

“The doctor that looks like _me?_ What the hell, Will? Is that what I look like?!” Tonny let go of Will to look in the mirror, insulted that Will thought he looked like the tall creep downstairs.

“Damn it, Tonny!” snapped Will, sliding into the shower wall. “Just get me out. Jesus, I’m too fucking old for this shit.”

Tonny toweled him off, stopping briefly to bite him on the shoulder. Will, in no mood for his antics, pushed him away again with a scoff, rolling his eyes at Tonny’s incessant desire to grope him. Wrapping a towel around Will's waist, the two hobbled out of the bathroom, stopping at the top of the steps to looked down at Hannibal and Jack.

“I just need to get dressed,” said Will, dripping on the floor as Tonny chuckled softly beside him. “My bedroom,” he snapped under his breath and the pair made their way down the hall. Insisting that he could dress himself, Tonny left Will on his bed and returned to the two men milling about downstairs.

“So, Will says you are Jack and … Hannibal …” said Tonny, glaring briefly at the stern-looking older man behind Jack.

“Yes, I’m Jack Crawford and this is Dr. Hannibal Lecter. And you are?” asked Jack, holding out his hand to Tonny who grasped it with a firm shake.

“Uh, Tonny. I work for Will,” he said, his eyes still nervously darting towards Hannibal’s menacing grimace.

“Oh right! You’re the new farm hand!” nodded Jack, remembering Will’s story about the unfortunate dog mauling.

“Not _that_ new,” he said, furrowing his brows. He’d been living and working on Will’s farm for four months now, but it certainly felt a lot longer than that. He briefly wondered if Will spoke of him to anyone.

“So what the hell happened to Will?” asked Jack, nudging Tonny with his elbow.

“Dumbass fell into the fucking stream in the middle of the night. Broke his leg and arm,” he said, chuckling under his breath.

Jack snickered to himself. “He wasn’t looking for a dog was he?”

“Of course he was, the dipshit,” chuckled Tonny, crossing his arms, and Jack covered his eyes, laughing as he shook his head in amusement.

Hannibal’s lip curled as he stared menacingly at Tonny. He recognized that face and it distressed and somewhat revolted to him. He sneered at him, unintentionally shaking his head at Tonny’s behavior, language, and half-naked appearance and he honestly had nothing to say to him.

Tonny heard his name drift down the steps so he bolted up to helped Will join his guests in the living room, plopping him on the couch before taking it upon himself to get the dying fire roaring again.

“So … what brings you all the way out here?” asked Will, though he was fairly sure he knew as he glared at a folder tucked behind Jack’s leg.

“You, Will,” said Hannibal, finally speaking now that Will was present. “We were worried you had no one to help you, and it seems like our fears were genuine.” He glared at Tonny unable to suppress his scoff.

“Oh no, I’m fine. Tonny’s, uh, helping me,” said Will, avoiding Tonny’s eyes which he knew were burning holes into him.

“Doesn’t sound like he’s doing a very good job,” stated Hannibal, still eyeing Tonny.

Tonny straightened his back, his forehead wrinkling as he glared back at him. _What the fuck’s his problem?_ The scorching animosity radiating from Hannibal was felt by everyone in the room. Tonny rolled his shoulders and took a step back, huffing his indignation under his breath as he returned his attention to poking the hell out of the logs on the fire.

Will cocked his eyebrow as he watched Tonny growing more and more agitated. He glanced back to Hannibal shaking his head. “Uh, no.” His eyes returned to Tonny, hoping to calm him down. ”No, Tonny, you’re doing great. This whole thing was my fault anyway,” he said, sweating profusely now that his personal and professional lives were unceremoniously colliding.

“He seems rather disrespectful, Will,” said Hannibal, still fixated on Tonny.

“Stop talking like I’m not right fucking here,” he snapped. He puffed out his chest suddenly noting his racing pulse. He had finally started to feel like a real person – a genuine version of himself that Will seemed to actually be enjoying. He was just beginning to sort of like himself, and he wasn’t going to let some asshole steal that away from him.

“Okay, let’s calm down,” said Jack, raising up his hand between the two. This mounting tension came from nowhere and Jack was beginning to wonder if sudden and inexplicable hostility wasn’t just a trait that all Scandinavian men shared. He still hadn’t placed Tonny’s accent, but it was close enough to Hannibal’s to draw a conclusion about the region of his birth.

“I am calm, Jack,” said Hannibal. “Not so certain about our little friend here though,” he said, nodding towards Tonny. “He seems to be a bit frustrated with himself.”

Sensing a violent outburst welling within him, Tonny snatched his pack of cigarettes from the mantel and quickly lit one, flaring his nostrils as he scowled at Hannibal.

“Of course you smoke,” muttered Hannibal. He shook his head and turned back to Will. His eyebrows innocently raised as he peered down at Will’s somewhat suspicious glower.

“Stop it,” said Will.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Will.”

Will rolled his eyes and banished both men from his thoughts. He was still perturbed by Tonny’s ill-mannered manhandling of him in the shower. But he refused to police childish antics so he turned his attention to Jack, who he was certain was there for more nefarious reasons than to simply check up on him. “And what’s that?” he questioned, suspiciously eyeing the folder Jack was still clutching behind his thigh.

Jack held up his hands, displaying the folder and gently shaking his head. “Just hear me out before you go jumping to any conclusions.”

“Jack, I said no. No more. I’m done.” He looked at Hannibal for support, gritting his teeth at the outrageous incursion unfolding in his own home. How dare Jack use Hannibal to reopen these wounds. How dare Hannibal, his self-proclaimed friend, allow this happen! Will’s wishes were never respected.

“This might be an exception, Will. I think you should take a look,” said Jack.

Will leaned back on the couch and crossed his arms. “Do I make no sounds when I speak, Jack? Are you not able to hear my particular voice? You should probably see a doctor about that.”

Jack closed his eyes, clenching his jaw. “Will, it’s him. The whole damn department knows it. I would never bring you _anything_ that I didn’t think you’d both appreciate and want to be aware of it.”

Will huffed out a stuttering sigh and rubbed his eyes. “Tonny, um, could you go grab my glasses,” he said, looking over at him.

Tonny grimaced and half-heartedly shrugged. “Uh … the stream, Will.”

Will sighed, his shoulders falling as his chin fell to his chest. “Right. Nevermind,” he said, shaking his head. “Why don’t you go outside and finish up what you were doing to the coop yesterday. You know, fix the roof, or whatever.”

Tonny flopped back in the chair by the fireplace, furrowing his brows. He didn’t want to go outside. He was tired and felt like shit after spending all night in the ER with Will. “Nah, I’m good. It’s too fucking cold anyway.”

Will stared at him, his eyes frozen and unblinking. He cleared his throat, his voice steely and biting. “Then go put on dry clothes, a coat, gloves and clean up all the shit you drug out by the barn – the tools and all that fencing; it uncoiled again.”

Tonny scoffed at Will’s aggressively demanding orders. “I’ll get it when I go out to do the cows later.”

“You’ll do it now,” he ordered. This whole thing with Jack was just unbelievable. He came to his home, too. Will _never_ brought work home. He hated having it in his house. It was like having horrifyingly grotesque little windows peeking into his personal space.

Tonny’s mouth fell agape at Will’s sudden and unwavering hostility towards him. “I never do shit on Sunday, Will, why the hell are you making me?!”

“Just do it, Tonny. Consider it payback for that little performance in the bathroom.” Will loudly exhaled at he turned his attention to Jack, visibly done with their discussion.

Time suddenly stopped for Tonny. He cringed, flinching at the acerbity of Will’s words. He stood, his color draining and inadvertently met Hannibal’s eyes. Tonny's face fell slack, though he wanted to snap at someone but he had no comeback, so he stared briefly at Hannibal’s emerging smirk. He huffed as he tore his gaze away, quickly heading to the front door. He grabbed and donned his sweatshirt from the back of the couch and charged out the door into the freezing cold despite his still soaking pants, letting the screen slam behind him.

Will gathered himself, avoiding eye contact with Hannibal and Jack as he told himself it was in Tonny’s best interest to not be present for whatever was about to be discussed. He apprehensively held out his hand and Jack dropped the folder into it.

“Robert Oakley,” said Jack. “He was a city councilman.”

Will scratched his face as he peered over the glossy photos of a crime scene in the middle of the woods somewhere near a river. “What am I looking at, Jack?”

“The body was suspended like that – in that web pattern – between two trees over the river.”

Will studied the graphic images of a naked man suspended between two trees by lines tied at his wrists and ankles. Additional ropes radiated out from him, tied to more limbs and branches. His belly was splayed open, revealing some sort of brightly colored mass in his abdomen. Will flipped through the images, barely breathing as he scrutinized every detail of the cryptic yet strikingly ostentatious scene. “And who was he?”

“He was a city councilman who staunchly opposed environmental causes; at least that was what he was most criticized for. He was anti-small business … He paved over a hundred fifty acre, family-owned cattle farm to put in a paved lot covered in shopping malls. He garnered a lot of hatred from environmentalist. Father of two, married, divorced, married again.”

Will glanced up at him, narrowing his eyes. “And where was he found?”

“About thirty miles south of here, still in Virginia. He was found between the river bank and an island in the Shenandoah.” Jack leaned over and pulled several documents out of the file. “That’s an aerial view,” he said, handing him a map. “You can see the island. He was right on the river where the development originally broke ground.” He handed another packet of papers to Will. “This shows what was used to string him up, and the autopsy report. Behind that is the preliminary profile and, if you need them, I have copies of all the other Ripper murders in the car.”

Will raised his eyebrows as he glanced up to Jack. “You’re thorough.”

“I came prepared, Will. If you have a question, I have an answer. Figured it would be the only way you’d listen.”

“And you’d be right,” he said, flipping through more photos. He stopped at a close-up of the opened abdomen of the body. “What are these …,” he said tapping the bright clusters of blue, white, and yellow erupting from the gaping cavity in the body’s gut. “... flowers?” He looked up at Jack.

“Poisonous flowers, yeah. Uh, belladonna was where the heart should be, oleander for the intestines, and I think foxglove for the lungs. He left the liver in the body.”

“Why would he do that?” murmured Will under his breath as he looked for a closer view of the abdomen in the file.

“We don’t know, yet,” said Jack.

Will glanced back up, his face slack but stern. “Councilman Oakley – was he an alcoholic?”

Jack slowly nodded, “His wife said he was in AA.”

“A diseased liver wouldn’t be particularly appetizing, would it, Jack?” he said looking back down at the file.

“I guess not.”

“Well it’s certainly his flamboyant design …” he said, trailing off. He closed the folder and tossed it on the coffee table. “But, I’m afraid I can’t help you.”

“Dr. Lecter has already agreed to help you every step of the way,” said Jack, motioning to Hannibal.

“I’m sure he has,” said Will, glancing at Hannibal as he released a long sigh. “But–”

“More people are going to die, Will.” Jack picked up the folder from the table and ran his finger along the edge.

“Everybody dies, Jack. I’m not going to save them all.”

“But they don’t have to die like _this,”_ he said, tapping the folder.

Will shook his head and stared at his hands. “It’s not my problem.”

“Reluctance, I understand, Will ... but you’re close. You’re close to him and I know you’re going to be the one that gets him.”

“Don’t try to pander to my ego, Jack. I have more at stake now and I’m unwilling to dredge this all up again. People rely on me now; I have employees, a farm to manage.” He shook his head. “I have no time or motivation to play games with a serial killer; I’m sorry.”

“This was probably a bad time to bring it to you,” admitted Jack, huffing out a sigh and shaking his head. “You’re exhausted, and I’m sure you’re in pain. Maybe later in the week when you’ve had time to recover–”

Will was already shaking his head, huffing his embittered disgust under his breath. No one ever listened to him.

“It was my idea,” said Hannibal and Will looked up at him. “I suggested to Jack that I thought you might be ready again. Perhaps I was too hopeful based on our last few sessions that you had made enough progress out here to resume your work with him. I’m sorry if I was wrong.”

Will bit his lip, thinking back through the last few weeks. Hannibal and he had been continuing their long, drawn-out discussion about intimacy and the role it plays in human life. He was finding that he shared many of Hannibal’s thoughts about the nature of friendship and camaraderie. They both agreed that humans need, at a primal level, both support and affection to achieve the intimacy they require to survive.

Will felt that others denied him the opportunity to express his wide range and intensity of emotions, and this forced him to survive for many years alone, without any love or support. He found it remarkable to discover the sheer depth of his needs and the depth of pain he lived with over the lack of empathy he received from the people he occasionally allowed to enter his secluded world. He gave and never received, and this revelation was heartbreaking.

Relationships at that point in history were more isolated than ever before. Will had been able to sustain himself in a world completely detached from society, devoid of both human contact and human connection – though it was entirely at his own insistence. Hannibal, though social and gracious among his fellow man, sympathized with Will and his crippling isolation, and Will found ease and comfort within the relationship he was developing with him. They spoke informally now, and their sessions – which no longer felt forced on him by societal norms or the FBI – had turned into somewhat social engagements. He would often stay late or dine with Hannibal and they would share deep and reflective conversations about God and the plight of men.

Will found that he’d never truly explored what was required to sustain an intimate relationship. He’d always found them overwhelming to both his senses and his time. Conversely, he also found them _underwhelming_ to both his intellect and emotional needs. He never felt appreciated nor respected in relationships and his unique and unusual level of empathy tended to be denigrated to nothing more than a bizarre form of social anxiety. But he was realizing now, that empathy – something he assumed would rob him of the ability to form realistic expectations of another – was not necessarily a weakness, but rather a gift – a gift he could use to understand even the most hurt and abandoned individuals – psychopaths, naturally, included. He could give these outcasts the understanding, patience, and sympathy that they craved so desperately but had been denied by the very society that had determined their value to be worthless.

Though empathizing with a murderer was distressing, Will was slowly coming to terms with his inability to compartmentalize his thoughts and emotions – acknowledging this flaw as a part of himself to either accept or alter. He was currently searching for new psychological theories that may help explain his affliction or aid him in rewiring his mind to think more abstractly and less emotionally about the motives and suffering of others. Hannibal had many of his own techniques with which to assist Will in this endeavor, and they often spent evenings together, attempting these new and sometimes unorthodox methods of psychological alteration.

Throughout learning to appreciate his empathy and accepting friendship from another, Will was discovering that those individuals shrouded from society for arbitrary or logical reasons, may very well be the most beautiful among us. That if given light, sustenance, and protection, these lost and forgotten souls may finally grow, flourish, and present their beauty to the world. Hannibal had been willing to look past the flaws that Will felt engulfed him, and he saw a man worthy of his attention and respect. Will had looked upon Hannibal and found compassion within the man – his intellectual equal – and he cherished the heartfelt sympathy that he shared with him.

Exhaling the pain and frustration of never feeling understood by Jack, Will sighed and quieted his mind, enveloping himself in his desire to help the greater good. “Let me get my life in order. Let me unscramble my head and come to terms with–” he trailed off as his eyes scanned the window outside. “Let me recover, and then … I’ll play the Ripper’s game.” Jack smiled and nodded at him, his body visibly relaxing. Will cleared his throat and lowered his voice as he stared at Jack and continued, “But the next time you plan on ambushing me, at least have the decency to do it somewhere other than my home and at a time when I’m not physically trapped and unable to escape. I don’t appreciate being cornered, Jack.”

Tonny suddenly barged in the front door, his mind having shut down while he was out in the bitter cold. “Will,” he snapped, ignoring their guests. “I’m getting Aksel,” he said, and he ducked out the door again.

Will’s attention immediately turned to Hannibal. “And by the way, what the hell was all that about?” he questioned after Tonny had left.

Hannibal feigned innocence and was frankly taken aback by Will’s accusatory tone. “He was being rude to you and your guests, Will. Is he always like that?” he asked, curling his lip at the thought of Tonny's crude behavior.

“You were antagonizing him,” Will retorted, crossing his arms.

“Will, I came here to see you, not discuss your employees.”

“How are you doing, by the way?” asked Jack, quickly changing the subject.

“My leg’s not so bad, but I’m having a hard time not messing up my wrist. But in six weeks the whole thing is over, so I’m fine. I’m just confined to my house – which is, frankly, fine by me – but Tonny and Layla will have to handle everything else around here. At least I’ll get to hold Aksel a lot.” Will smiled realizing that it wouldn’t be _all_ bad.

“I brought you some food. I can’t imagine what he’s feeding you,” scoffed Hannibal, retrieving the bag he’d dropped by the front door.

“I, uh, appreciate that.” Will tried to sound grateful, but he was still feeling the tingling sensations of irritated skin creeping across his body, not only from Hannibal’s antagonism towards Tonny, but also Jack’s very impertinent assumptions about his desire to return to the FBI. “Kitchen’s back there if you remember. Just put it anywhere. I’ll have some later. Thank you, Hannibal.”

Hannibal nodded and took the bags to the kitchen, leaving Jack alone with Will.

“What’s up with those two?” Jack asked under his breath, leaning towards Will.

“I don’t know. They seem to dislike each other, Jack,” sighed Will, shrugging and plainly stating the obvious.

“No, I mean why does your farm hand look like a pissed off version of Hannibal?”

Will tried to chuckle quietly, “That’s exactly what I said. Tonny's from Germany. I think it’s just a Northern European thing.”

“Well, it’s weird as hell.” Jack grimaced slightly, leaning back to peer at Hannibal in the kitchen. “I don’t know how you stand it – surrounded by all these _Northern Europeans,”_ he mocked and Will snickered under his breath.

Hannibal had just finished in the kitchen and rejoined them in the living room when Tonny returned home with Aksel over his shoulder. Hannibal narrowed his eyes, briefly studying the child, before meandering back to Will to sit next to him on the couch.

“And who is this?” asked Jack, approaching Tonny to peek at the baby.

“Aksel,” said Tonny, smiling at Jack. “Seven months old.”

“He’s a beautiful boy, Tonny. Will didn’t tell me you had a kid.” Jack smiled at the sleepy baby as he played with his hand.

“I didn’t?” said Will, wondering if he really hadn’t told him. He wasn’t intending to keep him a secret, but then again he’d always kept his personal and professional lives painstakingly separate. Chaos seemed to reign when the two began bleeding together.

Tonny felt a painful rawness flush his cheeks as he curled his body protectively around Aksel. Will hadn’t talked about him or his son to anyone. He felt this abasement deep in his bones and he was suddenly flooded with his suppressed memories of being humiliated and shamed by the people who were supposed to care about him. Why hadn’t Will talked about him? Sure, they weren’t married or anything, but Tonny felt _something_ for Will. They’d messed around, slept together, took care of each other, and – when Will allowed it – they even kissed and touched each other like they were in a relationship. Tonny was under the impression something was forming between them and as they began sharing more of the responsibility of Aksel, Tonny had assumed Will was proud to show off his son.

“Oh, Bella would just eat you up,” bubbled Jack, still playing with Aksel’s fingers. “You know, that reminds me, we need to get everyone together sometime. I know Bella would love to see everyone again. Alana, too.”

Tonny gradually backed out of the conversation, pulling Aksel away from Jack as he crept upstairs to avoid any more contact with these people. He barely knew them and they already seemed to dislike him immensely and Will was no longer acting hospitable towards him.

“Actually, Jack, that sounds like a great idea. Why don’t I plan a dinner party?” offered Hannibal, smiling at the pair.

Will cringed and looked over at Hannibal, staring at him from the other end of the couch. “Um, yeah, well I can’t get around very well, obviously. Maybe ... Tonny could come too? To help me?” said Will, somewhat attempting to use Hannibal's apparent disdain for Tonny to get uninvited.

“Do you think he’d even understand what was happening? He would have to sit at a table and use a fork, Will. And speak, god forbid,” he said, with a smirk.

Will scowled at him, though he was attempting to suppress a snicker at his remarks. “He’s not that bad, Hannibal. I know he’d hate your food though. He lives on french fries and cereal," he admitted. "But maybe he wouldn’t mind driving me down ...” A sour taste was already forming in his mouth. He had no qualms with Hannibal’s dinner parties under normal circumstances, but in his current injured and agitated state, they sounded like an inordinate amount of work – showering, dressing, driving the hour and a half to get there, being stuck in the truck that long with Tonny … And that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing either, but what would they talk about? And an hour of teasing, goading, and discussions about whatever it was that Tonny did all day, seemed like a terrible way to prepare himself for one of Hannibal’s opulent dinners. And there would be people there … Will internally groaned … He could handle Hannibal just fine by himself – the two shared both deep and meaningful conversation as well as playful provocation, and he was used to their budding informality. But when Hannibal was around others, he seemed less inclined to speak freely, opting for more benign topics of conversation such as opera, cuisine, or the degeneration of society at large ...

“It’s settled,” said Hannibal. “I'll set a date for next week and invite Alana and Margot.” He stood as Tonny ascended the stairs, no longer carrying Aksel. Hannibal eyed him, Tonny sneering back before he made a hasty dive into the kitchen to hide. Hannibal smiled and returned his attention to Will, patting him on the shoulder. “We should probably go so you can rest; right Jack?”

“Yeah, uh, I guess,” said Jack. He rounded the couch and pointed at Will’s two casts.  “You take care of those,” he said, with a smile. “And we will talk more about this later.” He tapped the folder, tossing it back on the table.

Jack’s smirking grin and smugness forced a contemptuous sneer to suddenly overtake Will’s unamused face. “Can’t wait,” he softly snapped, and his two visitors casually said goodbye and left as abruptly as they had arrived.

Tonny leaned out of the kitchen to peer out the window, watching the two men depart in Hannibal’s car. “What the fuck was that about?” he asked after he was sure they were gone. “Why was that asshole being such a dick?”

Will exhaled a long exhausted sigh, an incredible weight overtaking his body. “I don’t know, but I really don’t want to get into it.” He flopped over on the couch, crumpling in on himself as his overburdened mind began imagining his new obligation – a dinner party – with the drinks and the genial laughter, the unfamiliar and often disturbingly outlandish menu … And now he was roped into another Ripper case. He shuddered at the thought though he did eye the folder, intrigued by the prospect of gaining some footing in the case. He strummed his fingers along the seat of the couch. He’d have to explore all that later, though – perhaps after everyone fell asleep tonight.

As his dinner commitment crashed back into his mind yet again, he was suddenly regretting – with every ounce of his being – having agreed to do anything with anyone ever. And now he was going to have to break the unfortunate news to Tonny that he was responsible for driving him to Baltimore. But had Hannibal actually invited Tonny? Will furrowed his brows, attempting to recall the conversation. No, he hadn’t. Tonny was just supposed to drive him there and drop him off. What was his supposed to do while Will ate? These lavish parties took hours and often lasted long into the evening. How was this going to work? He shook his head, imaging every possible outcome to this now-burdensome ordeal and they all seemed to end in disaster.


	23. Wrath be Mute and Fury Dumb

The pouring rain hadn’t let up all day so Tonny and Will still sat in the relative protection of their rusty blue pickup, parked just across the street from Hannibal’s home. They watched the party guests punctually arrive and quickly jog up to the door, umbrellas in hand – first Jack and Bella, then Alana and her new girlfriend, Margot. Once the wet, though cheerful gathering had slipped inside, Will imagined Hannibal being his usual self, graciously offering beverages to this, his closest group of friends.

They continued staring at the house, despite the front door now being shut, feeling incredibly out of place in this affluent neighborhood in Baltimore.

“We're gonna get soaked,” said Tonny, looking out into the gray abyss surrounding the house.

“Yeah,” Will agreed, nodding. “That is most definitely going happen.” He studied the sheets of rain pouring down and obscuring the truck windows on all sides, wondering if anyone would notice him not showing up at all.

“Should I just carry you?” said Tonny, grinning at the thought of Will being draped over his shoulders when they’d arrive at the doorstep. “Probably faster than your limp.”

“Well, thanks.” Will chuckled, still studying the heavy curtains of rain out his window. “Nah, let’s just go for it,” he said, turning back to Tonny with a sigh. Will’s gaze was suddenly transfixed on Tonny’s unblinking eyes. He was staring at him with an unexpected tenderness, his mouth slowly creeping into a warm smile, and Will grinned briefly at the fondness radiating off him. His heart abruptly began racing and his eyes widened as he realized Tonny was leaning towards him. He cleared his throat attempting to stop him from doing whatever he was doing and Will groped the door behind him, searching for the handle. He was not looking for any form of affection in this situation. He was already anxious about Hannibal’s dinner party and the drive had been filled with overwhelming and frankly embarrassing conversations about which female celebrities had the biggest _tits;_ or what Tonny found the most enticing from the grotesquely large stockpile of porn on his phone, which he insisted on showing Will while he drove; or the ridiculously nonsensical plans he had to improve the chicken coop with a high-powered electric fence. There was so much about Tonny that Will appreciated; he was gentle, somewhat sweet, and fun to play with at times … but beyond that – and he hated to admit this – Will found the man beyond crude and completely senseless … _but in a good way,_ he insisted to himself.  

Before he could manage to open his door, Tonny reached up and stroked Will’s cheek, drawing his face towards him to taste the man's lips. They kissed momentarily before Will pulled away and unnecessarily glanced around, searching for potential bystanders.

“Why did you do that?” he whispered, turning back to Tonny whose face, hungry and dissatisfied by the paltry embrace, was now mere inches from his.

“I … wanted to,” he confessed. He bit his lip and leaned back in for another kiss, but Will stopped him, lightly pushing his shoulders away. Tonny sat back in his seat, lowering his head, his chest throbbing with rejection.

Will watched Tonny adjust his hoodie sleeves, averting his eyes to anywhere except the man he just tried to kiss. Will turned his body to face him, and softly sighed, his voice tender and apologetic. “What are you thinking about, Tonny?”

Tonny slowly rebuilt his courage, nervously scratching his face before he swallowed. “About how much I hate myself,” he mumbled, belittling himself as his voice caught in his throat.

Will’s chest ached and his lungs fell breathless as he felt Tonny’s pain welling up in him. Before he could rationalize his way out of it, Will reached up and pulled Tonny’s chin and mouth back to his. They groped each other, mindful of Will’s broken bones, kissing and biting each other’s necks and lips in an attempt to assuage the embarrassed tension they’d just experienced. They both melted, suddenly feeling reassured that this understanding and sympathy between them was still very much real despite their ongoing hesitation to initiate such intimate contact.

“You’re gonna be late for the asshole,” whispered Tonny between breaths. He sucked at Will’s neck, tasting and licking the same tender spot over and over, biting and savoring this skin that he hadn’t tasted in what felt like eons.

“Since when do you care about the asshole’s feelings?” asked Will between whimpers, groping the front of Tonny’s jeans. Will could feel Tonny smile against his neck and it made him soften back into his seat, closing his eyes and giving himself up to the moment. Tonny’s fingers moved down Will’s body and nimbly unbuttoned his pants before the man could protest. By the time Will recognized the feeling of his pants being pulled open, Tonny had him in his mouth. Overwhelmed but elated, Will gulped back his apprehension and hesitantly ran his hand along Tonny’s back, resting his cast near the waist of his jeans. “Shit, Tonny, you don’t have to do this,” he gasped, tilting his head back against the seat. “And this is probably the worst fucking place to do it,” he exhaled.

Tonny pulled off suddenly. “You aren’t forcing me,” he assured, glancing up at Will’s contented face before resuming. Tonny carefully listening to Will's near-silent moans of satisfaction, basking in this faint but very powerful encouragement.

“Oh fuck ... I’m close,” whispered Will, tilting his head down to watch the man in his lap. He tentatively touched the back of Tonny’s head once again, grazing his neck with his fingertips as he absorbed this new and exhilarating form of exhibitionism, being sexually explored with someone's mouth in such a public setting – and in front of his psychiatrist’s house no less.

Tonny’s head continued to nod over Will's lap, his hand now grasping Will and lengthening the sensation of his tongue. Will firmly gripping a handful of Tonny's hair which sent an ungodly amount of bliss surging through them both as he listened to Tonny whimper at the tugging on the back of his head.

The tension was building in Will's pelvis and he briefly grew concerned with what he was supposed to do at this point. He desperately wanted to come, but Tonny had never done this to him before. He suddenly felt worried and apprehensive about coming in the man's mouth. This was not a scenario Will had often found himself in, especially in public. What was the etiquette in this situation? Was he supposed to say something? Push him off? Offer him something to spit into? He briefly recalled the handful of times some similar to this had happened to him. They all tended to end poorly. He tensed and slightly pushed against Tonny's shoulders.

Tonny pulled off, continuing to stroke him with his hand as he looked up at Will's tensely begging face. "Are you still close?" he asked. Will rapidly nodded and bit his lip, his gaze refusing to make eye contact. Tonny had a brief notion as he stared up at Will's anxiously strained self-control. "I want you to come in my mouth, Will," he implored, returning to the task at hand.

Will continued to nod, and finally, acquiescing to the tension Tonny had formed within his groin, he came in the man's mouth moments later, feeling boneless, nerveless, but filled with a warm ethereal heat. Tonny lapped at him, licking him clean before sitting up to catch his breath.

Will promptly tucked himself back in his pants still huffing and casually looked around them for potential onlookers. “What, um, what about you?” he asked, looking back to Tonny whose eyes were closed. Will suddenly realized he was now awkwardly stuck in a position of having to return this sexual favor and he had no idea how he was supposed to do so. Performing oral sex on a man was definitely not within his sexual repertoire and he wasn’t really looking forward to learning only moments before being forced to have dinner with all his work colleagues. "Do you ... do you want me to ..." He grimaced and unconsciously shook his head.

Tonny listened to him stumble over his words, his eyes still closed. Will was nervous and agonizing over the thought in his head and Tonny could hear the stress he was choking back in his throat.  “Nah, I’m ok. Just give me a minute.” He was still concentrating on calming down.

Will sighed with relief but watching Tonny restrain himself – rubbing his neck, rolling his shoulder, and controlling his breathing to abate the excitement of having him in his mouth – flooded Will with an overwhelming longing. He desperately wanted to touch Tonny – to run his hands through his hair – to bite and lick along his jaw – but he couldn’t, so he rubbed his uninjured hand firmly down his own thigh. Moments later, Tonny gradually opened his eyes. Will was reclined and relaxed, his head rolled to the side as he salaciously studied him. Tonny averted his eyes, blinking slowly and methodically, continuing to restrain his breath to relax.

Will was forcing himself down from his own high as his eyes slowly focused on Tonny’s window. “Hey, look. The rain let up.”

Tonny glanced into the clear but wet street. “My plan all along,” he softly joked. “Ready for your stupid fucking dinner?” He scoffed as he fell back to the present.

“Well I am now,” said Will, shifting in his seat. He grinned at Tonny though his unconscious mind churned with more than a little concern over what had just happened. Will was breathless and satiated but disconcerted yet again over that overwhelming emotional connection he felt towards the man next to him. That connection brought with it a sense of guilt and a feeling of coercion on his part and that made him fearful to learn of Tonny’s motives for this unexpected tryst. Did he feel obligated to do it, feeling perhaps indebted to Will for his generosity towards him and his son? Was he seeking attention from Will and felt he had no other means to express it? Had Will unconsciously suggested to him that this was an activity he desired? Was Tonny just lonely? Will’s bliss was now gone and his heart sunk in his chest.

They both finally stumbled from the truck and limped to the door with minimal dampening of their clothes. They were greeted by Hannibal who vaguely grimaced at Tonny's presence before welcoming Will into his home, yet again. Tonny loudly scoffed at Hannibal's blatant disgust towards him and helped Will to a chair inside.

All the guests were gathered, waiting for Will to arrive. Bella and Alana rushed to hug him as he limped in. “Am I supposed to stay and help you or do I go wait in the truck like a damn dog?” asked Tonny to Will, feeling incredibly unwelcome by Hannibal who continued to leer menacingly at him.

Alana stared at Tonny, her mouth slightly agape, as she looked back at Hannibal, studying his face. “Tonny here is from _Germany_ , apparently,” noted Hannibal to Alana, as he forcefully clapped Tonny on the back with his open hand. He gripped his shoulder, his fingers drilling into his skin, and Tonny gritted his teeth. “And we will _not_ be needing you. We have more than enough help already here,” he clarified, smirking at Tonny as he freed him. His release was so unexpectedly jarring that the young man stumbled forward, catching himself against Will’s chair.

Will watched Tonny right himself, rubbing his shoulder and avoiding eye contact with everyone as he backed away from Hannibal. “I’ll be outside,” he softly declared. He lifted his hood and wrenched open the door, quickly ducking out without so much as a nod. Will felt a paralyzing and devastating ache in his chest as Tonny left, and he wondered just how much pain the man had to be in. He should have defended him. He should have made Hannibal let him stay. He felt overwhelmed with how much he wanted to hold him but powerless inside this pointless and crippling world of formality and social norms. He stared at the floor ashamed as the bustling group wandered and chattered around him.

Jack eventually helped Will hobble to his dining room chair and they all sat down, attempting to enjoy their meal with anecdotes and idle chit-chat when Hannibal brought in their final, albeit late, guest, Freddie Lounds.

Will dropped his fork to his plate. “What the hell is she doing here?” he snapped, his lip curling into a disgusted sneer.

“You’ve missed a lot while on your farm, Will. She’s been crucial to a number of cases,” explained Jack.

“Crucial? I highly doubt that, Jack,” scoffed Will, pressing his back into his chair and wiping his face with his napkin.

“Will, this is a friendly dinner,” reminded Hannibal as he brought in their next course.

“And it’s been awhile, Will. Thought we could catch up,” she said with an artificial grin on her face. “I hear you’re a terrible farmer,” she goaded, smiling. Jack choked on his wine and attempted to recount their first visit to the farm, apologetically eyeing Will in the process.

“It’s a lot to do, run a farm. Right, Will?" Jack nodded. "Good honest work though,” he insisted.

Will stared at him, unimpressed with his attempted recovery when he felt Freddie tug on his shirt collar. He recoiled from her touch, sneering at her. “What are you doing?” he snapped.

“You … have a hickey, Will Graham!” she declared, laughing.

“What? No I don’t,” he insisted, reaching up to touch the spot Tonny had been sucking in the truck.

“Then how did you know exactly where it was?” she retorted, a shit-eating grin on her face.

“Can’t argue with that logic, Will,” said Alana, smiling at him as she peered over the table to look at Will’s neck. Will immediately covered his neck with his hand.

“Will, you dog!” hooted Jack. “Tell us about the lucky lady.”

He scoffed, rapidly shaking his head. “I’m not … no, this is not something I’m going to discuss with all of you.”

“Oh, come on, Will! We’re all friends here,” pushed Alana. “Is it Maria?” she asked, and Will sighed with regret for ever agreeing to come here.

“Who’s Maria?” asked Jack.

“From a homeless shelter in Purcellville. Will and I were on a date last year and she called saying she had a rescue dog that needed a home, so we drove all the way from _Fiola Mare_ to the shelter to pick up that dog.” Alana laughed at the memory. “Its name was Duke, wasn’t it?” Will's eyes widened as he choked on his water. He cringed, clearing his throat, but managed to nod.

“So wait, is she still homeless, Will?” asked Jack, obviously confused.

“What? No! No, she’s not homeless; she works at the shelter,” he clarified in an impertinent tone. “And I’m not seeing Maria.”

“Well where would Will Graham go to meet women then?” wondered Bella, joyfully beaming at Will.

“... or men,” added Margot, taking a bite of food while staring at Will. They all looked at her befuddled. Will, speechless, unintentionally glanced over to find Hannibal smirking at him and he wished in that moment that his head would explode to finally end the tragedy that was his life. “I mean, come on,” she chuckled to the gawking crowd, before giving up and focusing back on her plate.

“What about nurses?” suggested Alana. “Your fall was your second trip to the ER in a couple months. Maybe it’s someone from the hospital,” she surmised, her brow raising.

“Second?” wondered Freddie. “What was the first?”

“Dog bite,” said Will under his breath.

“A dog bit you?!” she said shocked but then she wasn’t really surprised.

“Not him, his farm hand,” explained Jack. “Tonny. Nice guy,” he continued, glancing over to Hannibal who was pretending to ignore his comment. “You know ... that’s it, we can just ask him when he picks up Will.”

“No, no, no, no …” insisted Will, shaking his head furiously.

“Oh come on, Will! Then _you_ tell us who gave you that little love bite,” goaded Jack.

“No. And I hope you're pleased with yourself,” he said, shaking his head at Freddie.

“You know, Will, your friends seem delighted that you're in a relationship. They just want you to be happy,” stated Hannibal between bites. Suddenly the lively discussion was interrupted by a loud bang at the front door to which an apologetic Hannibal excused himself to tend to.

He meandered to the front door and opened it to discover a soaking wet Tonny waiting there impatiently. Tonny pushed past Hannibal, shoving him away as he stormed in. “I will _not_ hang out in the cold all night. Fuck that,” he snapped, dripping on the carpet before plopping down in one of Hannibal’s leather chairs.

“Oh please, Tonny, do come in,” insisted Hannibal humorlessly. “You don’t plan on shaking on my carpet do you?” he asked. Tonny loathingly glared at him.

Hannibal rejoined his guests, apologizing for the interruption, and after returning from the kitchen, served dessert. “In honor of Valentine’s Day, which just past, minced meat pies with cranberries and port wine,” said Hannibal, placing intricately sculpted miniature pies surrounded by fruits and nuts in front of each guest.

“Minced meat?” asked Jack, “Is there real meat in these?”

“Indeed, Jack. Though now most recipes simply use nuts and dried fruit, this traditional recipe uses beef. Beef _heart,_ specifically, to continue the theme,” he said as his guests began enjoying their final dish for the evening.

“Who was at the door, Hannibal?” asked Will as he poked at the heart filled pie in front of him.

“Just your human crutch, Will,” said Hannibal. Alana, Freddie, and Bella glanced at each other, somewhat excited to talk to Tonny about Will’s potential new mistress. After finishing their desserts, the group decided to retire to the study where Tonny sat waiting, dripping on whatever he thought looked the most expensive.

“So it was revealed at dinner," began Jack, "that Will has taken a lover,” he joked, with a cognac in one hand and a hobbling Will in the other. Will scoffed and rolled his eyes.

Tonny looked up, his eyes widening in a slight panic. “Um, yeah?” he answered. Will closed his eyes and gently shook his head at him. Will quickly introduced Freddie Lounds in a curt and brusk manner that accurately depicted his true feelings for her as the group all sat among the plush leather sofas. Jack handed Tonny a glass. “What is this?” Tonny asked before taking a small sip.

“I don’t remember. What was it, Hannibal?” asked Jack, glancing over at a somewhat disgusted Hannibal.

“It’s Armagnac …” both Tonny and Hannibal said simultaneously, and they shared an oddly intense stare, both glaring at each other.

Will looked at Tonny, his brows furrowing, curiously wondering how the hell he knew what Armagnac was considering he’d just recently been introduced to pears. Will’s thought process was suddenly interrupted by an annoyingly whiny voice.

“So, Tonny, do you know who Will’s sleeping with?” wondered Freddie, loud and abruptly.

Tonny choked on the Armagnac before recovering with a cough. “Do I look like Will’s cock to you?” he said, leaning back in his chair. “Why would I know where he sticks it?” he said, laughing. The room erupted in a sort of nervous snicker and Hannibal clenched his teeth at his sheer crudeness.

“Oh come on, you have to have an idea,” she insisted, “Do you?”

Tonny laughed at her. “Yup.”

“Do tell, Tonny,” insisted Alana, looking at Will, smiling.

“Oh my god, stop it. It’s none of your damn business!” snapped Will. “Not another word Tonny.”

Tonny raised his eyebrows, amused by this turn of events. “Don’t worry," assured Tonny looking back to Freddie. "Will has good taste,” he said grinning. He felt far more powerful in the last five minutes than he had in the last five years.

“Where did they meet?” asked Bella.

Tonny began to speak before being interrupted by Hannibal. “When it comes to personal matters, it would behoove you to hold your tongue when an employer asks it of you.”

“Oh stop, Hannibal. It’s all just in jest. Will knows that,” asserted Freddie.

“Will doesn’t know that,” insisted Will.

“Did they meet at a homeless shelter, Tonny?” she coyly asked, touching her face and attempting to flirt with him.

“Tonny, say absolutely nothing to that one,” demanded Will pointing at Freddie who was now sitting on the arm of Tonny’s chair. “She’s a goddamn snake.”

Tonny reached up and touched her hair curly red hair, playfully licking his lips, “Are you red … _everywhere?”_ he asked, running his finger up her thigh.

“Everywhere it counts,” she said, leaning towards his ear, smiling.

“For fuck’s sake, stop it!” screamed Will. He nostrils flared as daggers flew from his eyes piercing every inch of Freddie’s flesh. “Get the fuck away from him, now,” he snapped. Everyone chuckled mildly at Will’s distress but uneasily shifted in their seats. Will blinked away his spotty vision and glanced around the room noting the number of eyes focused on him. He cleared his throat and crossed his arms, forcing his tense shoulders to relax. “He has nothing to say to you, Freddie,” he said now relatively calm. “Right Tonny?”

Tonny turned to Will and winked at him in front of everyone. Will’s mouth fell agape in return, shaking his head as embarrassment consumed him. The tension now forming within Will’s body made him feel exactly like he was drowning – his lungs wouldn’t expand – and he briefly imaged literally inhaling his glass of Armagnac in a hasty attempt to kill himself. _But no, that wouldn’t be enough,_ he thought. He remembered the lit fireplace in the dining room. He’d throw himself in the blaze, drowning in Armagnac. _That should do it,_ he thought, nodding as he bit his lip. He covered his eyes, chewing on his tongue. _This is not happening,_ he kept repeating in his head.

“Oh come on, I can be trusted to keep a little secret,” said Freddie, running her fingers across Tonny's shoulder and up his neck.

“Freddie, I wouldn’t trust you as far as I could kick you,” said Will, knocking on his cast. “And that’s something I think about a lot actually.” His frustration was growing and he knew the longer they stayed, the more likely Tonny would reveal something Will didn’t want in a headline. He was also bizarrely focused on how much Freddie was touching Tonny and this enraged him. “I think it’s time to go.”

“Oh, Will,” sighed Alana. “Don’t go. We’re all just having a little fun,” she said, grabbing his arm.

Will shook his head, his decision final. “I’m exhausted, I need painkillers, we’re going home,” he snapped.

Tonny stood, suppressing a smirk and he and Will said their goodbyes. As Will was helped to the door by Hannibal, Tonny found Will’s glass of Armagnac, abandoned on Hannibal’s harpsichord and quickly downed it before waving to the group. They all stared at him with varying degrees of smirks and smiles, appreciative of his somewhat playful demeanor. Though not really a refreshing face, his personality was a least unique and jovial and the group was happy to have gotten the chance to meet him.

In one easy movement, Tonny snuck up behind Will, scooped up his arm, and dropped it around his neck, pulling him away from his grip on Hannibal’s arm. They staggered to the door, briefly turning around for a final farewell.

“I hope your evening was still a pleasant one, despite some issues with the company,” wondered Hannibal to Will as he side-eyed Tonny.

“I think it’s time I stop leaving my house entirely,” said Will, and Tonny nonchalantly sniffed his nose, rubbing his cheek against Will’s.

Freddie sauntered up to Tonny before they could depart and whispered in his ear, tucking her card in his hand before backing up and grinning at him, wiping the corner of her mouth with her finger.

“Better take care of your reputation. It'll live longer than you, ya fuckin bitch,” he huffed, dropping her card in Hannibal’s drink. He sneered at Hannibal one final time before turning with Will to limp back to the truck.

Hannibal’s eyes widened and he looked down, swirling the card in his cognac. For some reason, he found this whole exchange far too entertaining to scoff at and he smiled, closing the door behind them. He still hated Tonny, of course, but this, he decided, was interesting.

Will was giddily laughing by the time Tonny got him into the truck. “Oh, that was perfect. I fucking hate that woman so goddamn much,” he confessed after Tonny hopped in.

Tonny lit a cigarette and cracked his window. “Why do you fucking hate her so much?” he asked, exhaling a puff of smoke and relaxing into the driver’s seat. “I mean I know she writes shitty crime stuff and a lot of people hate her …”

“How do you know all that?” asked Will.

Tonny held up his phone. “She was yelling at some guy at the gas station down the street. The guy was getting pissed and called the cop. I looked up her name. You know she wrote something about you?”

“Don’t believe everything you read,” snapped Will, “I mean, believe everything bad you read about _that_ leech, but not about me. She wrote this ridiculous article calling me crazy and she worms her way into crime scenes and messes with cases,” he said. “I can’t even imagine what she’d write if she found out about this,” said Will, rubbing his forehead in thought.

“There are worse things to be than a guy who likes cock, Will,” mumbled Tonny, still confused. “Who cares?”

Will averted his eyes, scratching his fingers under the edge of the cast on his wrist. That wasn't his problem. It was more than that, and far more embarrassing that he was willing to admit. “It's not just that. I hate her so fucking much. She ran my name through the dirt and I can not believe Jack's trusting her with cases now." He closed his eyes, inhaling a lengthy breath, slowly exhaling it through his nose. "And with Freddie though, she has no tact. She's cruel and ruthless. She wouldn't be delicate or respectful of my privacy …” said Will, his skin beginning to crawl, “I can see her headline now: _‘Crazy Will Graham loves getting cock sucked by man who looks suspiciously like his therapist’_ on her new website _DaddyIssues.com_.” Will shook his head.

Tonny’s stifled chuckle gradually turned infectious as they both glanced at each other laughing at Will’s ridiculous tirade. When they both calmed down, Will reclined back against his seat, sighing with relief to be out of that anxiety-inducing mess. Tonny was staring off into space, sucking on his cigarette and ashing it out the cracked window. He looked calm now, not nearly as heartbroken as he had when he so unceremoniously fled Hannibal’s house when they’d first arrived. There was however, a certain jitteriness to the way he moved like he was in a constant state of internal turmoil over something. He finally started the truck and they began their long drive back to the farm in the darkness.

“You know,” said Will, “maybe next time – just a thought – you can maybe _not_ suck on my neck so hard that you leave a mark?” he suggested, glancing over at Tonny.

“Is that what started the questions?” he said, beginning to laugh again. “Shit Will, that’s funny.” He sighed and paused. “Nice to know there might be a _next time_ though. Didn't think you wanted to … until.” He trailed off, clearing his throat. “And I think you owe me a blowjob now,” he stated casually, taking another long drag.

“I don’t owe you shit … but I’m not going to argue,” said Will, smiling as he mulled it over in his mind. A slight twinge of excitement coursed through him at the prospect and he could feel his cheeks warming. “And who the fuck cares about anything anymore?” he said, rubbing his eyes. “Fuck these people and their nosy fucking shit.”

Tonny chuckled, flicking his cigarette out the window. “You're talking like me now,” he said, huffing in amusement.

“Well ... swearing is cathartic,” he said, his hands still rubbing his eyes.

“You know I hate your doctor,” mentioned Tonny, glancing at him to gauge his reaction.

“Yeah, well … so do I sometimes,” he said, with a long exhausted sigh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun note about the Armagnac, which is a French brandy. It's actually something both Hannibal and Tonny share experiences with (which is why I have them both identifying it at the same time).
> 
> In KoNoMono, [Hannibal prepares the roasted Ortolans for he and Will](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ic54ULRx0ZA). The preparation calls for the songbirds to be drowned alive in Armagnac. They are then roasted and consumed whole in a single mouthful. This is, obviously, not in my story line, but fun to note. I also made Will's cringe-fest very similar to the Ortolans preparation. 
> 
> In Pusher, [Tonny and Frank share a meal at an ethnic restaurant where Frank orders an Armagnac ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZJfTVR9TUaQ). Tonny tastes it and dislikes it immediately, eventually spitting it back in the glass. Also, if you watch the clip, holy fuck, canon Tonny is such a fucking asshole; I love it, haha. I have him downing the Armagnac before he leaves Hannibal's house as a sort of desperate attempt to reconnect with a memory of his old life.


	24. As One Would Kill a Fly

Will stood by the front door, grinning like the fool that he was. “You ready to go?” he called to Tonny, who remained motionless, hunched over his phone on the couch. Will was feeling exceptional today, and he was unabashedly sharing his mood with anyone willing to have it. One entire week had passed since his last nightmare, and he was elated to have spent all seven of those days in his own comfortable bed, alone and undisturbed by roving hands or wandering thoughts. His transition back to the FBI academy had been smooth and uncomplicated, and he wondered if his new schedule and obligations weren’t helping to stabilize his fractured mind. His students seemed particularly receptive this semester, and he’d had much more flexible hours since Jack had made a few phone calls on Will’s behalf, atoning for his egregious incursion earlier in the week. He was also thrilled to have a new, secluded room within his home to store his files, view slides, study crime scene photos, or simply read without being interrupted – A new office had been constructed out of an old storage room off the kitchen, and despite not appreciating being forced to bring work into his home, at least he could lock it all away in a place that didn’t defile the sanctity of his bedroom. Though he was still combing through the newest Ripper case, making no progress whatsoever, none of that mattered considering how much the rest of his life seemed to be falling in line. His casts were now off after six painful weeks of recovery, and the tranquility of his farm life could resume once more.

His weekly sessions with Hannibal also resumed this week, and he’d had a multitude of topics to discuss. His subsiding nightmares were only the tip of the iceberg. He hadn’t had a blackout in almost two months, and he was beginning to feel as though his impetuous decision to buy this property, surrounding himself with the richness of nature, was exactly what he needed to recuperate and quiet his unending anxiety. Yes, today was a very good day – a day that he was about to spend outdoors, doing something he loved, with someone he wanted to share it with.

“I don’t know why you're so goddamn happy about this. I'm only going because you won’t shut up,” confessed Tonny from the couch, still engrossed in his phone. His son had just been swept away for the day by Layla and her mother, and Tonny was enjoying these few meager minutes of doing absolutely nothing – as though having nothing to do was a novel and exciting concept to the man who spent six hours a day dicking around the farm.

Will’s eyes narrowed, his mood rapidly shifting, perturbed by Tonny’s unceasing negativity. This was an aspect of Will’s life that he wasn’t particularly appreciating. Tonny had been moody and irritable, complaining constantly about everything, and Will was finding it harder and harder to even remain in the same room as him. “I can walk again. We’re about to go fishing. I’m fucking excited, Tonny. And would you put that stupid thing away? I said no phones.”

Tonny glared at him over his shoulder. “You meant that?” he asked, gnashing his teeth. Why did Will insist on sucking every ounce of fun from his life? Why did Tonny have to suffer because of some arbitrary rule Will had decided to just now enforce? These last few months had been torturous for Tonny. Will had been cold and distant towards him, despite the fact that Tonny had been expected to maintain the entire property while Will recuperated from his multiple fractures. Sleeping alone for the last week had Tonny feeling jittery and nervous, wondering whether Will was suffering through his nightmares alone to avoid him, or if he was simply withdrawing from him entirely. Their evenings were now spent apart, Tonny either fussing with the chicken coop or watching violent television, and Will in his new office, hiding from the rest of the world. This arrangement was wearing on Tonny, and he fought with his desire to broach the subject with Will. But how could he bring it up? What would he ask for? What did he have the right to demand? Will didn’t owe him any social interaction. He was still his employer, after all. He didn’t owe him sex or even any physical contact. He owed him nothing, and it was a painful corner for Tonny to feel trapped in.

“Yes, I meant no phone. What are you, twelve? You don’t need your damn phone constantly. Go load the truck.” Will clenched his jaw, holding out the last duffle bag of supplies, waiting for Tonny to get up. He shook it, rattling the zipper while he waited.

Tonny puffed, grumbling under his breath, and trudged over, snatching the bag from Will’s hand. He was about to storm out to the truck and fling it in the back when his arm was snagged and pulled back inside the house.

Will’s eyes softened, his voice now warm and apologetic, “I just want to spend some time outside – fishing and relaxing – and I wanted to share that with you. I’m not trying to punish you, Tonny. And if you don’t want to come, that’s fine. I can go alone.”

Tonny scratched his neck, huffing out an irritated sigh. “I’m coming, okay?” He yanked his arm from Will’s grasp and barged off the porch.   

Will leaned against the threshold, watching him throw the bag into the bed of the truck and dig through his pocket for his cigarettes and lighter. His shoulders were tense and rigid as he lit a smoke, pacing the driveway like a bull. He paused to kick the truck’s tires, knocking mud off his work boots. Will knew he’d been upset for a few days now – he could feel it. A tangible sensitivity surrounded Tonny, and he was snapping at everyone. But the last time Will had joined him in his bed – soaked and shivering – Tonny had treated him with the utmost delicacy, much like a piece of china. He’d held Will as he regained composure, wiping the sweat from his face, being careful to avoid his casts as he helped him change out of his sweat-drenched clothes. He was tender, affectionate, and he whispered slowly with well-chosen words so as not to upset Will’s already disturbed mind. He’d asked him questions about his comfort and offered lighthearted banter to draw Will out of the darkened forest and back into his warm bed. This _midnight Tonny,_ this person Will groped for in the dark, was not the man he so often saw acting like a child when in public. He wasn’t the same man who went looking for fights at the bar. He was a beacon of light in a sea of darkness, and Will was baffled by how such duality could exist within a single human being. He was a bull with a delicate affinity for fine china.

More and more guilt seemed to bubble within Will the longer they stayed emotionally disconnected. While he was ecstatic to feel normalcy returning to his own body, he was beginning to question what toll the last few days of separation was taking on Tonny’s emotional and physical well-being. He still didn’t fully comprehend why Tonny continued to feel compelled to make occasional sexual advances towards him, and he was still uncertain of what his intentions had been before Hannibal’s dinner party, but it was a topic that his mind, having quite a penchant for denial, was staunchly avoiding. But Will did recognize that something was different between them, which he was unwilling to accept for the moment, even if he may have unconsciously understood it.

Will eventually followed Tonny down to the truck, and they both hopped in the cab. They drove back through the fields and pastures to the stream embankment at the back of the property. Will parked, rolled down his window, and smiled, reveling in the clear, cool, mid-March morning that surrounded them.

This short jaunt into the woods behind the house was, to Will, an intimate sharing of one of his passions. He was looking forward to introducing Tonny to something that brought him contentment and tranquility, with the hope that it might ease Tonny’s strife as well. He’d briefly deliberated bringing Aksel with them, but he reconsidered, as he wanted to ensure that his focus remained on Tonny so they could speak freely, unencumbered by a crawling baby. They needed this protective seclusion to communicate more willingly, without the distractions of family, household obligations, or Will’s incapacitating mental anguish.

He reached for the door handle, excited to show Tonny this section of stream that he’d earmarked for fishing come spring.  

“Don’t fall, Will,” teased Tonny as Will opened his door.

Will huffed, turning to playfully glare at him. Tonny was gawking back, a cocked smile on his face. “You just …,” began Will, shaking his head, “you just can’t help it, can you? It’s like a tick. You just have to _poke_ and _prod_ and shit all over everything with your little comments,” he ranted, trying to hide his enjoyment of the innocent goading. “Don’t worry, Tonny. I’m not going to fall. As a responsible adult, I didn’t park dangerously close to the embankment.”

Tonny snickered, and they grabbed their gear and headed up to the stream. Will found his quiet, flat spot along the bank, and they unloaded.

“You look stupid with that thing on,” said Tonny, mouthing a cigarette and staring at Will gathering his poles in his muddy brown chest-high waders.

“What?” cried Will, feigning shock as he looked down at his rubber-clad legs and feet. “I think they make me look handsome – stylish even,” he teased, trudging out into the water. Tonny chuckled and sat down on the bank. He studied Will casting out his line in a fluid motion – over his head and back – and he watched the lure kiss the water upstream. It all seemed unnecessarily complex for catching a fish, though Will made it look simple enough to do. Tonny pulled up his hood, flopped down his sunglasses, and laid down on his back with his eyes closed.

“What, you’re going to sleep?” called Will from the stream.

“Yup.” Tonny remained unmoving save his expanding lungs that released an occasional puff of smoke from his nostrils, as his cigarette flickered like a dying candle over his mouth. Will shook his head and, despite not seeing him do it, Tonny grinned, undoubtedly knowing he had.

A loud raspy cough startled Tonny awake from his nap on the ground. Will was clearing his throat and digging through a duffle bag next to his head. “Oh, sorry,” he said, noticing Tonny startle at the noise. “Didn’t mean to wake you up.” He clanged a metal thermos against his tackle box and grinned. “But now that you’re awake …”

“Fuck. You.” Tonny chuckled to himself, still lying on the pebbly ground. He flicked his spent cigarette towards the stream, and Will watched it land mere feet from the water’s edge.

“Really?” he said, shaking his head. Tonny ignored him, his complaint falling on deaf and unconcerned ears.

Will retrieved the butt from the bank and walked back to Tonny, tucking it in the man’s hoodie pocket before settling on the ground a few feet away. He sipped his coffee, peering out across the serenity of the stream. He’d been fishing for an hour, wondering if the sleeping body on the shore was going to join him. When he realized Tonny had no intention of sharing this experience with him, he gave up and joined him on the shore. It was a different and unusual feeling to be enjoying his hobby with another person present – even if that person preferred to be asleep. Will was placing a profound amount of trust in Tonny, and he wondered if the man understood just how difficult this was for him. Will was not only allowing him into his secluded world, but he was accepting his help – his physical help – at his most vulnerable.

Tonny slid over the gravel until he was lying next to Will, tipping his knee to rest it against Will’s upper arm.

Will peered down at Tonny’s knee, huffing as he mentally noted the delicate touch. His mind wandered away again, his gaze returning to the stream.

“What?” snapped Tonny, glaring his narrowed eyes at Will.

Will glanced over at him. “Nothing. You just leaned your leg against me,” he said, taking another sip and watching the stream bubble around the rocks at the shore. Tonny slunk away, resettling himself several feet from Will. “It’s okay; I don’t mind,” he explained, shaking his head. Sometimes Will enjoyed Tonny's attempts at being physically expressive with him.  He'd never known someone who wanted to touch him so willingly, nor had he ever met anyone he’d felt comfortable enough with to allow them to do so.

“Then why say something?” snapped Tonny, his voice quivering.

“You asked. And I’m just making an observation. Nothing more than that.” Tonny turned away, scratching his face. Will didn’t want him to feel rejected or hurt, so he attempted to his justify his remark. “You just don’t seem like a touchy-feely sort of person, that’s all. It always surprises me when you want so much physical contact because you try to touch me constantly. I mean, I’m flattered, but–”

“But what? I'm not allowed to touch someone I'm fucking?” Tonny huffed and jerked down the cuffs of his sweatshirt.

Will furrowed his brow, shaking his head. “That’s not what I meant. But … we aren’t really fucking.” As Tonny’s body deflated into the stony ground in response, Will clarified, “I just don’t see … whatever this is, as – I don’t know – a relationship.” He looked away and cringed, imagining how that statement sounded spoken out loud. They had a relationship – of course they did – they were friendly with one another, and they shared an employer-employee relationship when working on the farm. It was true that they had shared a few brief trysts, but that hardly represented what Will would consider an intimate or romantic relationship. They had only fooled around twice; once of which was entirely one-sided. He failed to see how this behavior could be anything more than flirting with occasional random sexual encounters.

“Okay, Will. Whatever helps you sleep at night,” said Tonny, sniffing his nose and lowering his knee back to the ground.

Will’s mouth fell agape, his mind reeling as he recalled his many sleepless nights by Tonny’s side. He climbed into bed with him after every nightmare to fall back asleep, and that had been happening almost nightly until these last few weeks. Will had tried to explain to Tonny about his mental condition, but he was met with skeptical looks and comments that clearly indicated that Tonny misunderstood the severity of the situation. Until his accident, Will had been growing increasingly restless as his nightmares became more vivid and tactile. He hadn’t divulged this information to anyone, but he was also starting to hallucinate. They were fleeting but very real, and he had spent his evenings scouring books and journals in his new office, searching desperately for potential causes or alternative treatments. He was still empty-handed each morning, no closer to either cause or solution. Tonny, however, had been nothing but welcoming to Will when he needed comfort in the night. It never turned sexual in nature, other than Tonny’s unconscious thrusting against his back, but Will was finding it impossible to fall back asleep unless he was with him. Maybe this _was_ some sort of relationship or at least a semblance of one. “I … I’m sorry, Tonny,” he said, turning towards him. “I don’t think I meant what I said.”

“I won’t touch you anymore. Stop talking about it,” he growled.

Will scratched his forehead with his knuckle and lowered his head. “That was probably a heartless thing I just said to you.” He eyed Tonny, noting his clenched jaw and tensing shoulders. Should he attempt to take it back? The aching rejection Tonny was experiencing tightened Will's own chest, and he wished he could draw his insensitive words back out of the air between them. "I shouldn't have said that."

“I’m used to it,” said Tonny, his voice harsh and biting. “Just stop talking.”

Will set down his cup and turned to face him. “You’re used to people treating you like shit?”

Tonny sat up, brushing stones off his hands. “Do you _like_ treating me like shit, Will? Do you _like_ hurting me?!” His voice trembled as he spoke. Will stared at him, eyes wide, attempting to assess his bitter response. “Maybe I only do shit with you because I feel trapped here like I have to do whatever you want me to. You're all I have here, but you won’t let me do anything. I have to help you when you need me to, but you won’t even let me touch your fucking arm when I want to?!” He scoffed, tears welling in his eyes. “This thing – you and me – is shit, Will, all of it! If I wanted to live with people who hate me, I would’ve stayed in Denmark.” He clenched his jaw and turned away. “And what you said about fucking ..." He shook his head. "You're a dick, Will."

Will’s body stiffened as his eyes glassed over. He choked back the disgust he felt for himself that percolated in the back of his throat and reached out to touch Tonny’s arm.

“Are you fucking crazy?!” yelled Tonny, recoiling from his touch. “Did you hear anything I just said? You don’t even listen to me, you fucker!”

Will leaned back, sputtering at his response as he attempted to apologize to this man who seemed hellbent on aggression. “I’m sorry, Tonny! Jesus! What do you want me to do?!”

“Admit that you treat me like shit! You never want to fuck, and you order me around like a dog! I’m not a dog, Will!”

A snapping crack resounded through the forest, interrupting their discord. Their eyes flicked up, scouring the trees for wild animals. Will rose, broadening his perspective across the stream, as he caught a glimpse of Freddie Lounds ducking behind a fallen tree. “Oh, fuck …” he muttered, stiffening at the sight. A cold prickle rushed across his skin as his stuttering heart pumped an icy chill through his body.

She saw him catch her in his eye line and crept out with her camera. “Hi, boys!” She waved, yelling over the sound of the flowing water between them. “Sorry about that; I was just passing through. Heard some talking ... intense stuff. Hope I didn’t spoil the moment,” she said, grinning at Will’s colorless face.

A knot lodged itself in his throat and Will forced it down as he gawked at her, shaking his head. His intimate bubble – this sacred world encompassing his most cherished hobby, his potential companionship, and his emotional vulnerability – was suddenly burst by her violent, unwelcome intrusion. Feet faltered back and a wet clammy hand unconsciously groped at his heart as it raced in his chest. Breathless and nauseous, he felt a heavy, damp veil descend over his body, and he knew he was about to drown.

Tonny watched him choke and stumble back, disoriented like he’d been cracked in the skull. His blood boiled and his teeth ground together as he bore witness to Will’s visceral reaction to this invasion of their privacy. His eyes snapped back to Freddie. “You fucking cunt!” he muttered under his breath. He jumped up and sprinting to the water, crashing through the stream to scramble up the embankment.

Freddie’s eyes widened and she dropped her microphone, turning to flee. She tripped in the underbrush and scrambled to her feet as Tonny tackled her from behind.

“You stupid fucking bitch,” he huffed, wrestling the camera from her grip. He grabbed her jacket, wrenching her to her feet. She fumbled forward as he yanked it off her body. A muddy boot kicked her back down to the ground, and he rifled through her coat pockets, collecting a tape recorder and a notebook. He threw down her coat and stepped back from her, hurling the belongings into the stream. “You leave us the fuck alone!” he screamed, marching back up to stand over her.

She scrambled backward until cornered against a tree. “What do you think you’re gonna do, huh?” she barked, curling her lip.

“I wanna fucking kill you!” he shouted, kicking dirt and leaves in her face. She swatted the leaves away, baring her teeth in a snarl. “Get out of here, you fucking cunt!” he screamed, lunging towards her. She clambered to her feet and bolted towards the tree line.

Huffing through his nose and grinding his teeth, Tonny watched her dart away until she was out of sight. Though his body still shook from the assault, he finally turned around and looked back across the water. Will was on his knees, covering his face, and appeared to be hysterical as his uncontrollable emotions ran rampant, pulling him apart from the inside. Tonny wrinkled his forehead, watching Will rock on his knees, wondering if he was laughing at the whole ordeal.

A faint click in the night would often arouse Tonny from his sleep. Cold skin would then press against his back, and he would feel Will release a long-held sigh. But Will was calm when that happened; he’d collected himself until he could wander, shaking and frigid, down the hall to Tonny’s room. What Tonny was witnessing now was an entirely different part of the journey that so often brought Will to him.

Thick brown water filled his boots again as Tonny trudged through the murky shallows of the stream, stopping to scoop up the camera that had snagged on the rocks. He waded out and stood in front of Will, dripping and offering his arm to help him stand.

Trembling black eyes stared at the arm – should he even rise? Can he stand? Can he walk? _I’m fine. If I don’t get up, he’s going to think I’m crazy._ A hand jerked from Will’s body and grasped Tonny’s, hoisting himself up, still shaking and short of breath. He managed to briefly make glassy and strained eye contact with Tonny before his gaze fell back to the ground. _I’m fine. I’m standing. Just get the shit and get back to the truck – get back to the house._

Tonny wiped the muddy water off his face. “What’s wrong with you?” There was something happening. Something was cracking deep inside Will and Tonny was watching it spread through his body. _Is he sick?_

“That was, uh, something,” muttered Will. A nervous laugh bubbled out of his stuttering lungs. _The truck. The house. Go._

“Was it?” asked Tonny, glancing behind him. His gaze returned to Will’s sweat-soaked face. “Will?”

He shook his head and huffed. “Fine,” he said, his voice thick and tight. _It’s coming. Oh god, no … no, not here. Let me get home._

Tonny cocked his head and held up the dripping camera. “What should I do with this?”

Will’s voice shook as he spoke, and Tonny stared at the beads of sweat rolling down Will’s temples, “I don’t know, um, smash it – don’t care.” _What can I do out here? I’m fine ... I have to be fine. I’m not going to die._

Tonny eyed Will while he walked to a flat rock by the water and crushed the camera under his soaked, muddy boot.

“Get the pieces,” barked Will, “Scavenger.” His vision blurred and he stumbled forward, catching himself on a tree trunk. _No, please don’t. Leave me alone. I’m fine._ Tonny gathered up the bigger camera pieces and threw them into the duffel bag, shaking his head as he watched Will falter with each step.

Tonny gathered up the bigger camera pieces and threw them into the duffel bag, shaking his head as he watched Will falter with each step. He slowly crept back to Will. “What were we talking about before, uh – _her?”_

“About … uh, I owe you another drink,” slurred Will. “Maybe food too, now.” He attempted a smile despite his racing heart and churning stomach. _What if I can’t get this under control? When is this going to end?_

“Will … what’s going on?”

 _Why is this happening now?_ Will hung his head, wringing his hands as the rocky ground warped under his feet. _You have to calm down. You have to stop this._

Cold, distant eyes stared back at Tonny and he reached out to steady Will’s shaking arm. "Food?" He bit his lip as he tried to examine Will’s lowered face. “You owe me food?” he wondered, trying to figure out exactly what Will was trying to say.

Will huffed and tilted his head up, his eyes unblinking and unfocused. “Seems fair.” He nervously chuckled and scanned the ground, his eyes falling on his thermos sitting on a log by the water. _You have to get back to the house._ He reached for it, snatching at it, but he fumbled and it fell, sending clattering metal and splashing coffee across the riverbank. A bolt of lightning raced across his tightened skin; the forest blurred, twisting in, pressing on him from all sides. The air became thick and hot, muffling sounds and flooding his lungs with a dense, choking fog. Blinded and breathless, his heart throbbed in his chest; he stumbled forward and plunged to his knees.

A rushing hand grasped his arm and noise erupted next to him. “It’s okay, Will. She’s gone now. You’re fine.”

 _No. I’m not. Get away from me._ He violently shook his head, staring at Tonny’s warped and twisted fingers gripping his wrist. It was coming. It was hovering right over his body like a demon, trailing its claws down his spine. _Get away! I’m not breathing! It’s killing me!_ A hand clawed at his tightening chest – his hand – and he wrestled against the grip that still restrained his arm. _Get off me. Let go!_ “… not my home.” He gasped, choking back the bile creeping up his throat. His voice trembled and tears fell from his clenched eyes as he tried to will it all away. “This is my home … stop it ... I’m not crazy; this is my home.”

“It’s still your home, Will. She's gone and she’s not coming back.” Tonny’s face twisted with horror and he wrapped his arms around him, pulling Will tightly against his chest.

Eyes snapped open. _This isn’t happening. Not here, not now, not in this place. This isn’t happening again. Not again._ He scratched at his face, a sob bellowing from his throat as nails scraped down his cheeks. “I can’t … that can’t happen here. Not here. It can’t ... It’s gonna kill me – it’s coming – I’m gonna die.” The panic trapped him, caging him like a rabid dog biting and clawing to be set free. The bars of the cage pressed against him, crumpling his flesh, crushing his body.

Tonny tightened his grip, trying to calm the violent tremors shaking Will’s sweaty body. “You’re not gonna die, Will, just-just calm down,” he whispered through his own trembling lips.

A claw gripped the back of Will’s head, forcing his face against the bars. He drew his hands to his chest and shoved them against the cage that tried to smother him. Every move was like fighting through a torrent, and every gasping breath filled his collapsing lungs with icy water. He shuddered through tears, “Don’t say that. Let me go! I can’t breathe ...” A blinding ache gushed behind his eyes and radiated through his head, dripping down the back of his neck. _I can’t breathe._ Tremors shook his body and he muttered to himself, grinding his sweaty forehead against Tonny’s cheek. _I’m gonna die._ He suddenly gasped, filling his lungs with damp cold air. He was trapped. He was dying and he fought, thrashing against Tonny to free himself. As the grip on him loosened, he threw himself back and scrambled away, the sharp gravel biting his hands and knees as he fled. Exhausted and breathless, he collapsed in the dirt, curling into himself to hide from the demon that haunted him.

Tonny clambered across the stones and hovered over his gasping body. Will shivered and twisted on the ground like a suffocating fish. _What am I supposed to do?!_ His trembling hands floated over him, hesitant to touch the man who writhed in seemingly unimaginable pain. “Will, what the fuck’s going on?!” he shouted. “She’s gone, Will. It’s ok now. I’m not gonna let her come back; I’ll kill her if she does.” Hopelessness filled Tonny as he watched Will twist into his knees, clutching at his throbbing head. “I’m right here, Will. I’m here for you.” His hands finally lowered to Will’s shaking thigh and shoulder. “Should I call a doctor?!"Will’s head snapped up. Those words,

Will’s head snapped up. Those words echoed in his mind like a clap of thunder in a distant canyon. He gaped in abject terror at Tonny's face until his eyes drifted, bringing into focus the darkness that now loomed over Tonny's shoulder. Convulsing in horror at the eyes staring back at him, he collapsing back to the ground, his body seizing with panic as he frantically searched the treeline for an escape. Surging with adrenaline, his fingers gouged into the stony dirt, clawing at the ground to drag himself away from the figure that consumed Tonny as it drew nearer, plunging him into the all-encompassing blackness.

Tonny jumped to his feet and whipped around, scanning the empty woods. There was nothing – budding trees, brush – nothing so horrific that Will should feel the need to tear himself away. Tonny was trying to help him, trying to figure out what was going on. He turned back around in time to catch Will scrambling to his feet, then take off through the trees.

 _Fuck_ … Tonny bolted after him, chasing him through the forest, tripping on branches, his lungs heaving as they bounded through the woods towards the pastures. He caught up to him at the edge of the meadow and tackled Will to the ground, fighting to restrain him against his body. Will thrashed and clawed, yanking himself away, begging Tonny to let him go. Finally, Will wrenched from Tonny’s grip and tumbled back, cracking his head on a jagged rock. His limp arms fell to his sides, and his body crumpled to the ground, gasping for air.

“No, no, no, no! Fuck, Will …” Tonny scrambled to him, nearly careening into his motionless body. Glazed eyes were still cracked, staring into space; lips were parted, releasing a barely wheezing breath. Tonny ran his hand through Will’s hair, recoiling as a wet heat gathered on his palm. Red. Blood. _No, no, no … he’s okay. He’s fine. He just hit his head._ “Will?!” _What do I do?!_ Tonny pleaded through welling tears, “Tell me what to do, Will. I don’t know what to do!" His eyes focused on Will’s dampening hair. _He’s bleeding. That’s a lot of blood ... that’s too much blood … that’s … that’s too much blood …_

A white heat melted over Tonny’s skull like thick hot wax. Flickering orbs and masses of color streaked and floated across his eyes and his cheeks and lips tingled. He tipped away from Will’s bloody head, toppling back on the ground. Time stopped. His heart stopped. _I wanna go home._ His hot bloody hands pawed at his burning head – his numb face. A deep, muffled hum grew louder in his ears, drowning out the silence of the meadow. His eyes darkened and his breath stuttered through the blistering heat radiating from his chest. _Get up. You need to go home._ His mind disconnected from his grisly thoughts, burying the crippling fear that choked him like a veil of smoke. _Get up. Go home. You need to get Will home …_ He was holding his breath and losing consciousness. _You’re gonna pass out, get the fuck up._

He fought against the warmth that spread through his body, lowering him into the ground – deeper and deeper like he was sinking into a sun-baked grave. _You need to help, Will. He’s bleeding. He’s gonna die. Get the fuck up._ He forced open his eyes and rolled to his side, slowly and deliberately filling his lungs with the cool earthy air. There was something next to him, a brown mass that twitched. He focused on the mass until his vision gradually returned and he stared at Will’s boots – mud-covered and still lying on the ground next to him. He lifted himself, regaining traction on the damp earth, and crawled back to Will still wheezing on the ground, now cradling his head as he moaned.

Tonny knelt beside him, blinking as he gathered strength, and hoisted Will’s listless upper body into his arms. He huffed, filling his lungs as he cradled him on the ground. He chewed his dry tongue, slowly forming words. “Will … can you hear me?” he mumbled. His mind and voice trudged through sinking scorching sand. Their hearts hammered in their chests, rhythmically pulsing through their bodies. Tonny clutched at Will’s wet, bleeding head. _It’ll stop. It’ll stop. He’s okay._ Their breaths panted and wheezed in unison as he rocked with him in the tall grasses of the field. "I’m stupid, Will, you have to tell me what to do.” His voice cracked as he listened to Will moaning through his teeth.

“I’m ok,” he slurred. There was a thickness in Will’s mouth and an ache that he couldn’t place. He focused on his long, languishing breathes and the sound of Tonny’s trembling foreign voice.

“I don’t think you’re okay, Will,” said Tonny, pressing harder on the bloody gouge. “You’re gonna have to tell me what to do now.”

Will pressed himself into the hot throat throbbing against his face, straining to remain conscious as his body dissolved into the heat that surrounded him. “Just talk,” he managed to mumble despite his filling mouth.

Tonny inhaled deeply, a pained but relieved sob escaping his lips as he finally heard Will’s voice. “Okay,” he said, nodding. He pressed his palm harder against the wound and nestled his face against Will’s shoulder. “You fucking scare me ... you know that? I’m scared, Will. And I don’t like to be scared.” He sniffed his nose as they swayed back and forth on the ground. “And uh, you can run fast, you know that? … Not as fast as me, though." He exhaled a stuttering breath. "I always run faster than police …” He grimaced through his clenched teeth. “And you said food, right? You want to get food somewhere?” He hummed against Will’s neck as he spoke, suppressing his tears. “Where’s a good place to eat, Will? Huh? Where did you want to go?”

Will pressed his wet face against Tonny’s sweatshirt and sniffed his running nose, still huffing out breathy, whimpering sobs. _What is that? I’m choking. It hurts._ Saliva rapidly filled his mouth and he swallowed back a mouthful, cringing at the bitterness left in its wake. He shuttered in Tonny’s arms.

 _He’s moving, he’s breathing, he’s fine. Just talk to him._ “I know you like weird food, Will ... I like–” Tonny shook his head, “I like whatever the fuck you want me to like,” he sighed, “I’ll eat at a gas station if you want to. Do you want to do that? That’s what I did back home.” _Why isn’t he talking? He should be talking to me. He’s breathing, but he’s not talking._ He shifted his weight to better grip Will against his body, continuing to sway as they breathed together. “Americans say _gas,_ right? And not _petrol._ I think it’s stupid, right? Everyone else says _petrol,_ but not Americans. I think that’s stupid.” _What if he’s dying?!_ He choking against Will’s neck as he continued prattling on through his mounting tears, “You’re all weird like that ... saying stupid things, using stupid words, right? And doing stupid shit like hitting your fucking head on fucking rocks.” He clenched his eyes, suppressed his needed to bellow out his growing fear. “Some things are good here though, right? Right, Will? You have good TV here, you know? We should watch some TV when we get back, Will … watch some TV together. Do you want to do that?” He sobbed, still rocking him in his arms.

A deep, frigid ocean still flooded Will’s mind but he was wading towards the shore. _I think I want to go home now._ With every step, the muffled noises by his ear became clearer and the high pitched whistle of the winds over his head grew more prominent in his mind.

When Tonny finally regained composure, he carefully peeled back his palm to peer at the gash. Blood covered his trembling hand and he returned it to Will’s scalp, pulling him tighter against his neck. His teeth clenched and he stifled another guttural cry. “Maybe we can just go to bed, Will. Just go back to the house and lay down together. Is that okay? You can lay down in my bed.” He pressed his face against Will’s cheek, slowly inhaling as his eyes overflowed, and he sobbed against Will’s shoulder. “I don’t like it when you smell like this Will, you smell like dirt.” He gripped Will’s clothes as he pulled away. “Say something! Please, just fucking say something to me!”

Will flopped his forehead back against Tonny’s shoulder, finally reaching around his back to grip at his sweatshirt. He swallowed back the bitterness again as his mind sluggishly trudged out of the water and back through Tonny’s words. “There’s a pub,” he murmured.

Tonny closed his eyes and pulled Will back against him, “A pub?" He choked on a snicker as he tightened his hold. "You want to go to a pub? You’re a fucking idiot. I’ll just get shitfaced and piss on your shoes again ...” He coughed and exhaled a deep sigh.

Humming against Tonny’s neck, Will tightened his grasp on his sweatshirt, absorbing the warmth radiating off him. “We’ll eat. That helps.”

Their bodies were weak and struggling to stay upright, so Tonny fell back to sit on the ground, pulling Will into his lap to gently lay his temple against his chest. _He’s ok. He’s ok now. We’re ok now. We’re talking._ “But that’s not fun, Will. I want to have fun with you. When we drink, we fuck.” He chuckled to himself and a sob of relief escaped his mouth. He collected himself, breathing against the top of Will’s head. “Fucking is fun, and you need more fun, I think. I’m gettin’ tired of all this shit, Will.”

Will sniffed his nose and shook his head against Tonny’s chest. “I don’t know what fun is. I don’t get it,” he slurred, pawing at his dripping nose. “Fun seems reckless ...,” he exhaled.

Tonny rubbed Will’s cheek, still grinning at hearing him speak. “Then you worry too much, or you’re doing it wrong,” he said, snickering through his still quivering voice. “I like to get drunk, pick up girls ... or do a bunch of coke and look for trouble.”

“That’s not fun, that’s … being an asshole – or a criminal.” Will sighed out a deep breath, closing his eyes. _My mouth, fuck, it hurts so bad._

Tonny drew back his face to peer down at Will’s. “Doesn’t mean it’s not fun though. Have you tried it?” He smiled.

“Tried what? – getting high and hitting on women? No. I haven’t.”

Tonny raised his eyebrows and grinned. “How do you know it’s not fun then?” He ran his hand down the back of Will's head, which no longer appeared to be bleeding. _We’re ok. He’s ok. He’s just dazed. He’s ok._

Will slowly pulled back from their embrace with a groan, and looked Tonny in the eye. “I’m sure I wouldn't have fun doing that,” he said, his voice sludgy and thick. He cleared his throat, and an eruption of metallic spit flooded his mouth again; he realized he bit his tongue when he hit the rock. Tonny cocked his head, watching Will chew on his swollen tongue and spit mouthfuls of bloody saliva on the ground. “And besides,” croaked Will, tapping on his chest, “Cop, FBI.” He tapped on Tonny, smiling, “Obnoxious, cokehead.” Tonny barked out a laugh. “I’m not that kind of person, Tonny. I wasn’t when I was your age, and I’m sure as hell not now.”

Tonny cracked a smile, nodding. “Maybe I should teach you how to have fun.”

Will reached up, pawing at the blood-soaked hair plastered to the back of his skull. A red hand returned to his gaze and he hissed through his teeth. He glanced back up to Tonny, finally hearing his response. “Just you saying that is gonna get my heart racing again.”

Tonny huffed and pressed his bloody hand to Will’s chest. “It’s not racing now?”

Will blinked, consciously feeling his own diminishing pulse. “No …” An overwhelming exhaustion fell on him as he leaned back against Tonny's chest.

“Are you ready to go back to the house?” asked Tonny, peering down into Will’s still-quivering pupils. Taking a deep, lung-filling breath, Will slowly nodded. Tonny shifted him off his lap and stood, helping him stumble to his feet. “You still owe me dinner, don’t forget,” said Tonny, brushing the leaves off them both.

Dizzy and unstable, Will leaned on his knees to regain composure so his spiking blood pressure wouldn’t drop him to the ground again. “I’m not going to forget,” he huffed.

“You still owe me a blowjob, too, remember?” Tonny snickered, smirking as he awaited a response.

Will looked up from spitting a bloody pool between his feet, and furrowed his brow, staring at Tonny. “Really?!” He shook his head, finally standing upright. “You’re going to bring that up now?”

Tonny clapped Will on the back as he passed, heading back to their fishing spot by the stream. “I just don’t want you to forget.” He turned around, walking backward to watch Will eyeing him, still shaking his head.

Stumbling and slow, they eventually returned to the stream where Will began the painstaking process of gathering up the last of their supplies. They both moved with lethargic hesitation, each still processing what had happened through their pain – both physical and emotional. Will’s throbbing scalp and tongue consumed his mind. He couldn’t stop focusing on the amount of pain emanating from his head. A sickening brew of coffee and blood was also churning in his stomach and if his tongue hadn't been so sore he probably would have attempted to vomit it up.

Tonny picked up and assembled Will's scattered thermos, his mind racing over Will’s unexplainable behavior. There were no words in his head to name what had just happened, not in Danish and certainly not in English. “Will, are you, uh, seeing a doctor about … that?” His eyes flicked to the grassy patch on the ground where Will had panicked and fled.

Will looked up at him as he secured his tangled lures to his fishing poles, gritting his teeth. “I’m seeing Hannibal.”

Tonny shook his head, baffled by why Will would ever want to work with that bastard. He dropped the thermos in the duffel bag. “Does he know about this?” He gestured again toward the ground where Will had collapsed. How could Will trust that asshole to help him through whatever horrible nightmares were going on in his head?

“Yeah, he does,” said Will, averting his eyes to the bag he was packing. “I tell him everything.”

“What’s he doing about it?”

Will shrugged. “We talk. It’s all in my head, Tonny. I’m working through it.” This was not a time to argue about his treatment plans or options. He wanted to get home, survey the damage, patch up his aching head, and go to sleep. Sleep. He wanted to _sleep._ He felt like he’d been hit by a bus … and then dragged a couple miles. But did he lose consciousness after he fell? He groaned, knowing he had. A concussion was the absolute last thing his brain needed. He glanced over at Tonny wondering if he could trust him to wake him up every couple hours. He grimaced. _I’ll just set an alarm._

“You talk? That’s it? That doesn’t seem like enough,” said Tonny, curling his lip. “I mean, _that_ was fucked up.”

“What?” he snapped, turning to face him. “I just think differently, Tonny, I cope with stress differently; there’s no _fixing_ this.” He knocked on his skull and winced as a blinding twinge bounced around in his head. He touched the tender laceration on the back of his scalp and cringed again. This was a fucking nightmare.

“Yeah, but, I think it’s getting worse, Will.” Tonny zipped up the duffel. He didn’t know what Will went through in the night, only that he came to him, pale-faced and sweaty and in desperate need of warmth and solace. Tonny was more than willing to give him both, but this situation was completely different. Will had been fearful and panicked and everything felt completely uncontrollable and it terrified him.

Will scoffed, shaking his head. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. It’s not getting worse. It’s actually getting better.”

Tonny’s eyes widened, “This is _better?”_

“Yeah.” Will nodded at him, gathering up the last of the gear into a pile. Saying it was getting better may or may not have been true, but Will refused to lead Tonny towards anything that may make him worry. He didn’t need worry or panic or any more fear brought into his home.

“Maybe you should see a different doc–”

“No,” Will snapped, straightening up and glaring at him. “Hannibal’s the only one that understands what’s going on. He’s helping me understand this.” He rubbed his forehead, releasing a breathy sigh. “I’m not starting over with a different doctor. I trust Hannibal. He’s the only person I trust.” Will grabbed a bag and two poles and trudged up the muddy bank towards the truck. Returning to the security of the farmhouse was paramount at this point.

Tonny threw the remaining duffel bag over his shoulder and jogged to Will, walking beside him up the trail. “I just think, maybe there’s something else you can try, you know, to stop the nightmares, and … whatever that was.”

Will stopped and dropped his shoulders, flaring his nostrils. “I hit my head; that's what happened over there. And if you're suggesting that I should take meds, absolutely not,” he huffed. “And, see? Hannibal’s the only one that agrees with me. Hannibal is the only one that thinks I’m strong enough to handle my own thoughts. The professional, who’s opinion I respect more than anyone else’s, says I’m fine.”

“I’m not saying you’re weak, Will. I’m saying you might be more fucked up than you think. Maybe more fucked up than he knows.”

“So I have nightmares – that’s not ridiculous considering my … condition,” he scoffed, “I’m stressed, and I suffer from anxiety. Panic attacks won’t kill me; I know they won’t kill me; I’m fine. Don’t question Hannibal. He knows what he’s doing.” He stormed away, hellbent on getting to his truck before he broke down again. He could already feel his body chilling and his palms sweating and he refused to succumb to that darkness again.

Tonny watched Will head off to the truck without him and he grumbled under his breath. It wasn’t like he had a succinct argument. He didn't know what Will and Hannibal discussed or did. They spent at least one entire evening together a week. What was Tonny supposed to do? Will was a private person; he wouldn't want to share his life with another new doctor. And he liked order and tranquility, and after the chaos that just ensued, Tonny was more concerned with getting Will back to the house in one piece than proving that he needed more psychological help. All Tonny knew for sure was that he should have kept Will from hurting himself and he didn’t, and that made him a failure. He hurried to catch up to Will again. “Ok, Will. You’re fine. I know you are. But is there anything you need me to do to help you?”

Will stopped again, staring at the ground. “Just don’t treat me like a child. I’m not fragile, I’m not weak, I’m not crazy.”

Tonny slowly nodded, staring at the side of Will’s somber face. He already hated seeing him upset but seeing him upset _and_ injured … that was unacceptable. This was supposed to be a nice trip and Will had been looking forward to it for days. It was ruined by that conniving woman and whatever instability lurked in Will’s head. Tonny just wanted him to be happy and that never seemed to happen. He just wanted to hear him laugh again. He swallowed back his concern and cocked a weak smile at Will. “Don’t forget you owe me dinner.”

Will snickered, releasing a mocking groan. “I know, Tonny. I’m not going to forget.”

Tonny grinned and headed up the path. “And a blowjob,” he mumbled.

Will clenched his teeth. “Yes, I know. I remember. Christ, stop bringing it up.” He felt his body gradually relax again as they traipsed onward, the truck finally in view. “Dinner and a blowjob …,” he grumbled to himself. “I guess it’s a goddamn date now.”


	25. “Does it concern you that we are not friendly, Will?”

_Urgent_ didn’t properly describe Will’s need to get to Hannibal’s home. He had replayed Hannibal’s invitation to dinner in his head all day, and upon reaching Baltimore an entire hour early, he had debated taking a nap in the truck so as not to appear too eager. Now that he stood in the man’s kitchen, leering suspiciously at a quart of blood sitting in the middle of the island, he was hard-pressed to remember why he was so excited to get back here after his six-week recovery.  

“Are you feeling better?” asked Hannibal, standing over a cutting board with a bottle of red wine. He poured Will a glass and handed it to him.

Will nodded his gratitude, still staring at the blood. “Infinitely,” he replied, taking a sip. A potent astringency rolled over his wounded tongue; he winced and bit his lip as it stung the deep bite from his fall at the stream, trying to suppress his urge to wrap his mouth around the sink faucet and wash away the burning pain.

Hannibal stopped slicing his pile of mushrooms when he noticed Will’s face contorting. “Problem with the wine?” he asked, inhaling from his own glass to scrutinize the bouquet.

Will scrunched up his nose, shaking his head. “No, it’s good,” he assured, peering into his glass.

“I can open the Montrachet you brought, but I’d have to change our dinner menu,” said Hannibal.

“No, this is fine. I just slipped and fell – bit my tongue.”

Hannibal raised his brows, assessing Will’s dilating pupils. “Is it your balance, or are you light-headed? Two falls in as many months – that could be disconcerting.”

Will waved his hand, hoping to dismiss this line of questioning and move on. “It was an accident. We were outside, and I tripped. There’s no mystery.”

Hannibal slid the mushrooms into a hot skillet, and a burst of sizzling snapped from the stove and a cloud of earthy steam began filling the kitchen. “ _We_ were outside?” he wondered.

“Tonny and I went fishing in my stream. Well, _I_ went fishing ... he just slept.” Will watched Hannibal move to the refrigerator and retrieve a metal bowl, casually placing it on the counter.

“He’s not a fisherman, I take it?” asked Hannibal.

“He prefers instant gratification … and fishing takes an extreme amount of patience.” Will pointed to the bowl. “I know I came early. Do you want some help?”

“I’m sure you don’t mind getting your hands dirty. Would you like an apron?”

“Never needed one before,” said Will, and Hannibal set the metal bowl on the large butcher-block island across from the range. Will peeked into the bowl, his lip curling at the shiny mass of red flesh. “What kind of meat?” he asked, backing toward the sink to wash his hands.

“Veal and rabbit. A rough chop will be fine.” He handed Will a chef’s knife as he returned to the butcher block.

Will pulled out the fillets and started bruskly slicing them. A _rough chop_ to him was probably a far cry from what Hannibal would consider acceptable, but having received no further instruction, Will haphazardly hacked away at the meat.

Hannibal ignored Will’s unorthodox cleaving and continued. “Were you trying to teach Tonny to fish? I fear you’re barking up the wrong tree, Will.”

“Well, you’re right, he wasn’t even interested in watching.” Will sighed as he dropped sliced bits of flesh back into the bowl. “I took him out shooting for grouse with the neighbor once, and he seemed much more interested in that, except _I_ was finished after about about fifteen minutes. But Tonny’s a decent shot, I’ll give him that, but I think he might just really, _really_ like guns.” He snickered and pushed up his glasses with a clean knuckle. “They’re loud and destructive,” he mumbled under his breath.

“Much like him.” Hannibal smirked, peering up at Will as he chopped a bunch of herbs. “So, you’re a fisherman with a distaste for guns, and he’s a marksman who hates to fish. What is it you two talk about?”

“Well, I know a smattering of Danish now – mostly insults – but we really don’t share that much with each other.” He absentmindedly took another sip of his wine and grinded his teeth in pain. He leaned over and abandoned his glass on the island in an attempt to avoid another forgetful sip. “Tonny isn’t really a talker.”

“The vulgar and uneducated tend to enjoy the sound of their own voice. If he doesn’t talk, that’s incredibly fortunate for you, Will,” said Hannibal, lining two small crocks with pastry dough. “And if you learn Danish, he can stop punishing the English language; I’m certain we would all appreciate that.” Will’s knife cracked against the butcher block with a _thwack!_ and Hannibal looked up at him, grinning. “Does Tonny actually work for you, or is he just a side project you’ve taken on?”  

Will prickled, stiffening as he listened to Hannibal so casually insult Tonny. “Of _course_ he works. I’m still paying him,” he snapped. Though he hated to admit it, the farm had devolved into even greater chaos since Tonny’s arrival. “He has some sort of vision for my chicken coop – _his_ chicken coop, or whatever it is now. It more closely resembles Frankenstein’s monster at this point.”

Hannibal stared at him, his forehead wrinkling as he attempted to decipher what Will could mean by his _vision_ for a chicken coop.

Will dropped the last of his chopped meat in the bowl and continued, “I don’t know what he’s doing to it, but he’s messing with it constantly. He buried a fence around it, put a new roof on it – practically made the thing bulletproof ...”

“Practically? I suppose he’s tested that theory?” asked Hannibal, rolling out more dough on the countertop.

“Yeah … and it’s _practically_ bulletproof, but not entirely.” Will grimaced, remembering that explosive ordeal. “But we do have a fox problem. I see them every morning when I let the dogs out. I don’t actually mind them, but he’s determined to destroy the whole pack. I don’t really know why he’s so obsessed with the chickens, though.” There didn’t seem to a rational explanation for Tonny’s obsession with their motley crew of hens, but Will refused to question it since he was, at least, taking care of _something_ on the farm.

 _“Skulk,”_ corrected Hannibal, interrupting Will’s rumination. “A group of foxes is a _skulk.”_  

“Fine. _Skulk_ ...” Will slid the bowl back on the island toward Hannibal and washed his hands. “But anyway, I appreciate the invitation tonight. I think I needed to get away.”

Hannibal dumped the sauteed vegetables into the bowl of meat. “Is something in your new home exhausting you, Will? Consuming you, maybe?” he said with a smirk.

Was it pettiness Will was sensing? Jealousy? Or complete contempt for Tonny? Whatever it was, his disdain for Hannibal’s mockery was slowly devouring him like flesh-eating bacteria. “My farm is fine; my home is fine. I’d hate for you to worry about matters that don’t concern you,” he said, crossing his arms. “It’s a gradual process, opening my home to relative strangers, but I’m managing it fine ... Aksel can be a lot to handle, though – especially after six weeks of what I can only call _intense forced bonding_. But I’ve enjoyed getting to watch him grow despite the crying and insomnia. It’s giving me a new perspective on familial bonding. But a break is always appreciated.”

“Parents are the bones on which children cut their teeth, Will. You’re doing him a great service by offering him an alternative to his own father. I commend your efforts despite the challenges,” said Hannibal, chopping thick slabs of bacon and leering at Will.

“I just wish I’d had a better role model growing up. I feel like the blind leading the blind. It’s frustrating to feel so inadequate all the time – I don’t know anything about kids.”

“Everything from airplanes to kitchen blenders and even chopsticks comes with an instruction manual, Will. Children, despite their complexity, simply do not. All parents are clueless, so don’t think you’re special for not knowing what to do.”

Will smiled, somewhat relieved to hear that he may not be a total failure. And while he refused to formally admit it to Hannibal, Will did feel an intense fatherly bond towards Aksel. Tonny was not what Will would consider _attentive_ towards the toddler. He was wonderful when Aksel needed a playmate, but beyond that he acted more like a glorified babysitter than a responsible parent. Will feared he was giving Hannibal the wrong impression. “Don’t get me wrong, Tonny’s great with him, he’s just not –”

“You,” finished Hannibal.

Will chewed his sore tongue. “No … Tonny’s not me. I have vastly different standards. Not _better_ , just different. So I try to make up for what Tonny lacks.” His eyes flicked between the bowl of chopped meat and the now-opened container of blood still menacingly staring back at him. _What the hell is he making?_ He glanced up to Hannibal, wondering if he was going to explain or not.

Hannibal dropped his shoulders, his eyes meeting Will’s. “But he’s _not_ your child, Will. Are you keeping that in mind?”

“I know he’s not mine, Hannibal,” he snapped, regretfully gulping another mouthful of wine. “But I’m allowed to enjoy having a child in my home. He makes me feel better about the state of my life.”

“We often garner confidence while watching the next generation develop. We see a piece of ourselves being left behind to flourish by our hand. It gives us comfort in the face of our mortality. But Aksel holds no piece of you, Will. I hope you’re not growing too attached. Tonny will move on, and he’ll take that child with him when he does. I hope you’re preparing for that,” he said, returning his attention to the dough.

Will held his glass in front of his lips, shifting nervously on his feet as he thought. “I know what I’m doing,” he said. His lying tongue was once again punished with the sharp, bitter tannins.

“I have no doubt that you have a plan, Will.” Hannibal smiled as he poured the dark red blood over the contents of the bowl, a droplet splattering and landing on his thumb. Will watched as the drop slowly ran down Hannibal’s skin and fell into to the bowl, joining with the webbed pattern of sticky blood seeping into the crevices between the minced lumps of flesh. Hannibal held out a wooden spoon. “Do you mind?” he asked, and Will hesitantly took it. Hannibal brought his bloody thumb to his mouth, scraping it against this teeth to clean his tainted skin.

Will slowly stirred the meat, gawking as Hannibal turned to the sink. “Should you really eat that uncooked?”

Hannibal snickered as he washed his hands. “Many cultures consume raw blood, Will. I know exactly where this blood came from, and I’d trust my butcher with my life.”

Will huffed and raised his brows. “I’m surprised you’d trust anyone with your life. Must be some butcher.”

Hannibal smiled and carefully filled the two small, dough-lined crocks with the meat and mushroom mixture and covered the tops with a round of pastry, tucking and pressing the edges with his thumb.

“What are those anyway?” asked Will, nodding to the bright-red crocks.

“Blood pies, in honor of the coming spring,” he said, wiping the edges of the dishes. “Young rabbit and veal doused in blood and baked in a _coffyn_. It’s a seventeenth-century English recipe.”

Will nodded and cleared his throat. “That seems a bit more representative of death than life,” he said, cocking his head.

“All death brings life, Will. And tonight, death feeds us.” He set the pies on a baking sheet and lowered them into the hot oven.

Will chuckled, peering into the metal bowl containing the remnants of red meat and sticky blood. “I can see why you were so hesitant to open the Montrachet,” he said, gesturing with his glass towards the bottle of white wine on the counter. “But it smells delicious.”

“I agree,” said Hannibal, scooping up the bowl. He placed the unused scraps in the refrigerator and closed the door, hesitating before he spoke. “I haven’t had the opportunity to apologise to you for inviting Freddie Lounds to our last dinner,” he began, “I had no idea that your feelings for her were still so distasteful.”

Will curled his lip, rolling his eyes at him. “I find it very hard to believe that you didn’t plan every moment of that fiasco.”

“Will,” said Hannibal, shaking his head as he leaned on the counter. “I didn’t know she’d behave like that. And while I know you’re used to crude behavior by now, I wasn’t expecting her to hound you so much.”

“I was under the impression that you'd met her before,” said Will, narrowing his eyes. He was going to ignore the comment about him being used to vulgarity, despite the fact that he was growing increasingly agitated by Hannibal’s incessant insults towards Tonny. “But anyway, she’s learned her lesson, if only temporarily, so I guess it doesn’t matter.” He cleared his throat as the image of her stepping out from behind the tree filled his mind and briefly chilled his skin.

“She has?” asked Hannibal, cocking an eyebrow.

Will shook his head, ignoring the inquiry, and took another sip – it still burned. Now was not the time to share what had happened at the stream, especially considering how it had ended. Tonny had physically assaulted someone, and Will had a panic attack that led to a hallucination and mildly concussing himself on a rock. That was not going to be the topic this evening – not when Will had intending to take this opportunity to relax in the comfort of Hannibal’s hospitality. After the attack and subsequent accidental self-harm – Tonny having witnessed both events in all their wretched glory – Will was feeling exposed and hypersensitive, and needed some time to reflect and restabilize. Tonny had never been present for any of Will’s more jarring episodes, and his immediate reaction – assuming Will was in dire need of additional psychological help – had been unsettling. Will was carrying an intense guilt for passing these worries on to Tonny, and it was forcing a defensiveness within himself to bare its teeth. He felt responsible for Tonny, and knowing he now saw Will as a vulnerable mental case was both enraging and embarrassing. Will wasn’t weak, and he didn’t need people seeing him as such. He was a responsible adult with a small child under his roof. It was his job and obligation to protect those closest to him, and he knew, deep down, most of his anxiety had to be Hannibal’s fault. The man was meddlesome, petty towards Tonny, and if he hadn’t invited that horrible woman to his dinner party to stir things up, none of this would have happened. Will could feel himself growing more restless the longer he thought about it. He had come to this dinner under the pretense that he could relax here, but secretly he simply wanted to attack someone.

Hannibal eyed him, noting his agitation when speaking of Ms. Lounds, so he dropped the subject. “So, what does brings you to me then, Will? You seemed quite excited when I invited you to dinner. What’s going on in that head of yours?” He smiled as he wiped blood from the stainless steel countertop.

Will scratched his chin, leaning against the island and watching the blood smear under Hannibal’s cloth. “Well, Hannibal, I did come prepared with a question, and a subsequent argument.”

Hannibal dried his hands, intently focused on Will, “And that would be?” he asked, waiting for the assault.

Will narrowed his eyes as he spoke, “Why are you so goddamn rude to Tonny?”

Hannibal chuckled, untying his chef’s apron. “You think I’m rude to him?”

“I _know_ you’re rude to him. You’re insulting and dismissive. And honestly, I find it petty and irritating.”

“I’m not rude to him, Will. Rudeness is a weak imitation of strength. He’s vulgar, inconsiderate, and wasteful of people’s time. I don’t find him particularly respectable … more insignificant,” he stated. Will’s eyes flew open at this and he recoiled, shaking his head as Hannibal continued, “He’s insignificant to _me,_ Will. But perhaps … not to you?” He cocked his head, watching Will’s outrage bloom before him.

Will looked away, clearing his throat, his eyes drifting to the doorway that led towards the front door. “Do you ever notice how condescending you are to some people?” His eyes resumed boring holes into Hannibal’s head. “And by some people, I mean all people.”

Hannibal chuckled, glancing down at Will’s half-empty wine glass. “I’ve been accused of being brusque before.”

“No, I don’t just mean terse. I mean flat-out insulting,” he said, crossing his arms.

“I can understand people thinking that. I do try to be direct, and it’s often confused with insensitivity.”

“Well, if you aren’t careful, that insensitivity is going to turn into something akin to vulgarity. And then you’re no different than Tonny,” snapped Will.

“There is a very notable distinction between coarseness and vulgarity, Will – coarseness reveals; vulgarity conceals. Be mindful of the difference.” He scooped up Will’s wine and dumped it in the sink before dropping below the counter to open a cupboard in search of something.

Will scoffed and shook his head, annoyed that Hannibal appeared to be busying himself in order to deflect their conversation. And why did he dump his wine?! “What are you doing?”

Hannibal rose with a metal platter and set it on the counter. Opening a drawer, he removed two small knives and placed them by the platter. “The wine’s aggravating your tongue, Will. I’ll get something a little more comfortable for your mouth. I have a stout downstairs that should pair with this meal, and I’ve been excited to try it. Is that all right with you?” He stepped towards the doorway, pausing for a response. “And I’ll change the menu a bit. A stout will do fine.”

“You don’t have to do that,” said Will, waving his hand. “I can just have water.”

“I know I don’t have to, Will, but I’m making _you_ dinner. Why should you needlessly suffer, whether it be with water or wine? I’ll grab a glass of stout – two, in fact.” He cracked a smile and quickly ducked out of the kitchen.

 _So this is_ my _dinner now?_ He huffed, shaking his head, and leaned on the island, pausing to collect his thoughts – interrupted yet again. They had begun their conversation about Hannibal’s treatment of Tonny, but it went nowhere, fizzling out with Hannibal willing to admit only that he was _sometimes_ insulting to _some_ people; but that was irrelevant. Will wanted to know _why_ Hannibal seemed to loathe Tonny. The animosity between the pair was tangible and upsetting. He despised feeling trapped between two people who seemed perpetually at each other’s throats. That war had made it impossible to speak freely about his concerns or personal relationships with either man. He couldn’t share his physical life with Hannibal, nor his psychological life with Tonny, and that internal strife was becoming impossible to manage. The worlds blended – they had to – and Will resented the constraints that placed on his personal life. Tonny obviously played a pivotal role in helping Will to cope with psychological stress, but whenever Hannibal was mentioned during their late-night conversations, Tonny became defensive and argumentative. And though Hannibal fed and nourished Will’s physical body with overindulgent food, if their stimulating dinner conversations drifted too close to Tonny, Will was met with insults and mockery towards the man he shared a bed with. Inevitably, Will would grow flustered and shut down entirely.  He inhaled deeply, calming his nerves and clearing his mind. He was here to relax, he told himself, so he meandered around the kitchen attempting to do so.

He wasn’t often alone in Hannibal’s kitchen. Most meals were experienced together, from the first sip to the last bite, with he and Hannibal conversing, laughing, and cooking together. It was a simple pleasure that he enjoyed, but as he spent most of his time in the kitchen speaking, ogling, or getting wildly defensive by some off-color comment, he wasn’t learning as much about the culinary arts as he’d like. He followed the counter, rotating and examining bottles of nut and fruit oils. He paused briefly to inspect a miniature, framed painting in a stand on a shelf next to the cupboards, depicting a small white dog standing with it’s front paws delicately placed on a bright red pillow. It was oddly crude, not like the other lavish artwork that adorned Hannibal’s walls. This one lacked finesse, yet it was placed lovingly in an antique frame and positioned at eye level, lit from above by a small spotlight. This painting was important to Hannibal, though it appeared to be the work of an amature. What about that piece was so cherished by the man?

Below the shelf stood a small selection of cookbooks. Browsing through it, Will pulled out an old copy of _Mastering The Art of French Cooking_ , its teal cover slightly yellowed with age. Running his thumb along the edge, he noted the dusting of flour and smudges of fat where Hannibal had opened the book in haste. The rest of his cookbooks seemed pristine, yet this one was well-used and showed the tangible signs of love – dusty fingerprints and worn edges. He slid the book back, rejoining its family, and continued his way around the kitchen. A large, concave, pounded-metal plate sat on the kitchen counter – the platter Hannibal had just retrieved. _Oysters,_ thought Will, noting the oyster knives set by the dish. Hannibal was going to serve oysters, undoubtedly a hasty alternative now that they were drinking stout. His eyes followed the line of the counter until they rose up the wall, meeting a lithotint next to the doors to Hannibal’s garden. It depicted a great hall, the walls of which were lined with huge paintings. He had begun to wonder where this room resided when he felt a presence at his back. He turned to meet Hannibal, holding out a pint glass of rich black stout.

“Charlecote Park’s Great Hall,” said Hannibal, nodding to the print as Will thanked him for the beer. “Inspecting my walls?”

“I don’t think I’ve paid that much attention,” said Will, turning back to the lithotint. “Is this place significant to you?”

“I’ve walked that hall before as young man. It’s the estate of the Lucy family, and that manor is surrounded by a park that’s backed against the River Avon. It’s a beautiful place. Shakespeare reportedly poached deer and rabbits in the park,” he said with a chuckle, “He was even brought before the magistrate for it and fled the city. Quite a scandal.” He smiled, holding up his stout.

Their glasses clinked and Will took a sip, finding the malty and smooth mouthfeel to be far more pleasant on his injured tongue. He nodded his appreciation. “What about that one?” he asked, pointing to the white dog, well-lit and well-loved on the shelf.

“I was hoping you would notice that. It’s by a budding artist who is slowly regaining control of her own life – apparently through art.” He beamed and studied Will’s reaction.

Will’s eyes softened and he rushed back past the island, dropping his glass on the counter as he passed. His eyes restudied the small framed painting; the tiny, delicate brush strokes seemed more peaceful to him now. They felt comforting and sweet. “How’s she doing?” he said, turning back to Hannibal.

“She’s staying with a maternal aunt in Massachusetts, looking at colleges for the fall. I advised her to take a year or two off, but she seemed determined to move on. Colleges in New England know nothing of her father, so I think she’s more comfortable there.”

Will sighed, his eyes returning to the painting. “When did you last see her?”

“Before she left in November. She sent me that as a Christmas gift. Her aunt enrolled her in _art therapy_.” He shook his head and snickered. “At least she seems to be enjoying it.”

Will’s heart sank in his chest. He hadn’t received a gift from Abigail for Christmas, and he stuttered out a sigh of remorse at the realization. “I abandoned her.”

“You did what you had to do, Will. She holds nothing against you.”

“She holds something against me; she has to.” He reached out, hovering his hand over the painting for a moment before withdrawing it to rub his neck.

“She sent you a gift, Will.”

He inhaled sharply and bit his lip, turning back to Hannibal, shaking his head. “No, I didn’t get anything.”

“Well, you would have, if you hadn’t moved. It was returned to her and she sent it to me to give to you.” He pointed to the framed white dog. “That’s yours. Mine is a painting of a Japanese teacup, and lives on the nightstand next to my bed.”

Will swallowed back the lump in his throat and quickly fetched the painting to cradle it in his hands. He ran his thumb along the frame, and he stared into the vibrant reds of the pillow, the greens of the drapery, the delicate mixtures of white and black adding depth to the fur. Another time – another life – flashed through his mind. If he hadn’t moved, this painting would have lived by his bed in Wolf Trap, facing him to look upon it before falling asleep. He would have helped Abigail settle into her new life, rather than being too busy shutting out the world. What did he miss by moving away? What life did he squander by leaving his field work with the FBI? Who did he abandon, and whose lives did he not even try to save?

A tear tapped the frame and he quickly looked up to calm himself, peering blankly at the now-empty shelf. How could he have been so selfish, so _ruthlessly_ selfish? How could he have left her – so vulnerable and weak – after laying waste to her family? _He_ did that ... _He_ killed her father, and then he abandoned her just as swiftly as the murderer who raised her.

A warm hand slid across Will’s back, resting on his shoulder. “She has a good life now with a family who loves her dearly. Life is just starting for Abigail, Will, and that’s _because_ of you, not in spite of you.”

Will sighed, still staring at the shelf that mirrored the gaping hole in his chest. He didn’t deserve the comfort Hannibal was offering with his kind words and gentle hand. He knew he’d failed Abigail the moment he told Jack he wasn’t going back into the field. He willingly decided to stop searching for men like Garret Jacob Hobbs. He consciously decided that his life was more important than all the victims he could have saved, and that filled him with a shameful self-loathing. His churning stomach bellowed out an anguished cry, blaming Will for starving it all day, but he still stared at that cold, empty shelf on the wall.

“The cure for heartache, Will, has always been a shared meal and a proper conversation. Let me provide you with both.” Hannibal patted Will’s shoulder as he pulled away, but Will remained motionless, his eyes having fallen back to the little white dog in his hands – the little white dog on the small red cushion. Just a white dog and red. A soft red cushion, and a little dog ... No, not a dog. There’s no dog ... _Where’s the dog?_

_“Will?”_

_“Can you hear me, Will?”_

_“Can you tell me where you are?”_

Two warm hands gently cradled the sides of his sweaty neck. Will slowly looked up into the murky brown eyes staring back at him.

Hannibal inhaled deeply, studying Will’s twitching pupils. “Let’s sit, Will. Let’s eat something.”

He nodded, and Hannibal lowered his hands, leading Will to the brightly-lit dining room which was now fully set, a spread of raw oysters on ice adorning the table. Will took his seat and cleared his dry, gravelly throat. The stout he’d abandoned on the counter was now refilled and at his place setting, so he reached for it and took a long gulp before dropping it back to the table with a _crack!_ “Sorry ... I feel really tired all the sudden.” He rubbed his eyes under his glasses, muttering another apology. He took a deep, calming breath and glanced at the French doors at the far end of the dining room. It was dark outside – dark and cool – and a gentle rain rapped on the windows.

Hannibal nodded, eyeing him from his seat across the table. “An exhausted field grows only weeds, Will. Is your new life not allowing you time to lie fallow?”

An arm suddenly reached around Will and he startled, his head snapping back to see who lurked behind him. Hannibal was standing behind him, moments from setting down a small plate. Will twisted back to peer across the table at Hannibal’s now-empty chair. “How did you–?”

“Will, look at me.”

His eyes jerked back to Hannibal. “What?”

Hannibal tilted Will’s face up to look in his eyes and he wiped sweat from his cheek. “Do you feel hungry?”

Will nodded as sweat dripped down his temples. “Yeah, let’s just … let’s just eat. Uh, where’s the painting?” He squinted, searching the walls for the white dog.

“I put it on the desk in my study along with my painting; do you remember that, Will?”

He nodded, exhaling a choppy breath and turned back to face the table. “Yeah, of course I do – desk.” Hannibal set down the plate, then returned to his own seat. “I’m hungry,” said Will, attempting a smile through the fog forming in his head. He nodded to the oysters. “These look good.”

Hannibal stroked his chin as he peered at Will’s trembling face. “Forgive the question, but did you eat today, Will?”

“Hmm? No time. Busy. I have a lot of work to catch up on after, uh ...” He trailed off, blinking his blurring eyes as he focused on the oyster knife. He palmed it, feeling the weight of such a small knife in his fingers. He reached for an oyster and drug it from the icy platter to his plate before picking it up, fingering the cold, rock-like shell. The tip of the knife crept under the lip of the shell and he chenched his jaw, his weakened fingers struggling to maintain a grip on the knife. He tried to twist his trembling hand but failed, letting it and the oyster drop to his plate with a clatter. A heat flushed his cheeks and his dampened hands rushed to his face, rubbing and pawing at his burning eyes. _What’s happening?_ An aching chill worked its way through his veins with every quickening beat of his heart. _No … no, please._ The lights overhead blinded him and he clenched his eyes shut, as his lungs tightened in his chest. “I need air,” he stuttered, shoving himself away from the table. He stood and rushed to the French doors, jerking the locked handles. _I can’t get out._ His white knuckles frantically wrenched on the door, fighting against this obstruction that trapped him inside.

An arm suddenly snaked across his chest, gently pulling him into a warm body. A second hand swiftly unlocked the door, drawing it open. Will was released, and he fled, panicked and stumbling, through the darkened doorway into the cold, wet abyss outside.

Rain pattered against his skin as he tripped down a stone step in the darkness, tumbling to his knees in the soaked grass. He gripped his face as a sharp spasm erupted within his brain. _Please, no, don’t do this ... stop!_ The ache forced out a whimper, and he clenched his head tighter, his fingers boring into his skull to relieve the mounting pressure.

A calm voice whispered through the tapping of the rain falling around him. “Will,” said Hannibal, as he approached. “I’m right beside you. Can you tell me what you’re feeling?”

“My head ...” he cried. _Please don’t. Not here. Not here._

Hannibal crouched beside him on the wet garden path. “Your head hurts. Can I get you something for it?” Will frantically shook his head, still clutching his skull. "You can get through this, Will. You’re under a lot of stress. Take deep, deep breaths." His voice remained steady and soft.

Will was pushing his dripping hair out of his face when a dark form drifted in front of his clenched eyes. He froze, his body shivering in the darkness. “Please don’t …”

“Do you remember what we talked about?” whispered the soft voice. “Can you tell me what time it is?”

He shook his head, grinding his teeth. “No,” he whimpered. A blackness engulfed him and he sunk deeper into the ground, the pressure building against his skin. The creature crept just out of sight, breathing across his neck as it darted behind him, and Will’s breath quickened.

“Do you know where are you?” said the voice.

“Stop!” he cried, crumpling to the ground. “Just _stop_ ...” He buried his forehead into the cold wet earth, gripping at his neck to hide it from the hissing breath behind him. _Go away, go away ..._

“Take a moment to breathe and tell me what you last remember.”

Will sobbed into the ground, inhaling the thick, earthy air. He held the dampness in his chest and his mind gushed with a thick crimson gore. It sprayed and bubbled within his skull. “Blood,” he murmured and he gripped his throbbing temples. “There’s so much blood …”

“What about blood?”

“It’s everywhere,” he hushed, hiding his voice from detection. The blood was coating him, hot and thick, dripping down his skin in the darkness. He crushed himself further into the ground. “It’s all over me!” he wailed, his voice cracking as it shook. He rocked himself against the dirt, still concealing his neck from the creature waiting just across the lawn in the darkened corner by the house.

“Where are you right now?”

“I had to kill him.” His staggering breath wheezed with every heaving sob. “He had to die; I had to do it.”

“You’re right. He had to die. Men have to die. You did the right thing.”

Will picked up his head and hastily scoured the darkened lawn, hunting for the beast that lurked in the shadows. He scrambled on hands and knees to the stone wall surrounding the garden and groped across it, frantically searching for something – anything – a key, lock, door, weapon, his fingers scraping across the stones until his eyes focused on his discolored hands – cold, wet, and glistening black.

He bolted from the wall and scrambled to the grass again, cowering into a ball, his forehead pressed back into the wet dirt. _Stop, please stop ..._ Sobs bellowed from his chest, “Please …,” he shouted over the growing rain, “I can’t do this!”

“I’m going to help you,” said the voice. It was thick and stern, blanketing him in the blackness. “But you have to listen to me. I want you to concentrate on your breathing. Take deep breaths and stay in the present with me.” Hannibal paused as he watched Will’s darkened shape hesitantly fill its lungs. “It's not the place that’s hurting you; it's the thought. But the thought is not real; it will pass. Let it pass over and through you like the rain falling on your back."

Will slowly rocked, listening to the voice. His attention drifted to the wheezing breath being sharply inhaled through his nose. Shaking sobs filled his tightened chest. He tried to inhale, but his lungs had seized, unable to expand. The cold, heavy weight of his dampening shirt pressed against his tingling skin like a shroud of ice. He listened to the drops of rain tapping his skull, echoing in his mind. The water gathered across his scalp and rolled down his cheeks, finally dripping from his chin and nose as he slowly inhaled the cool moist air. A chilling breeze blew around him, prickling his skin, and he shivered, drawing his arms into his body.

“Can you tell me what time it is?”

Will’s heart slowed as he recognized the soft voice behind him. The icy fear running through him began melting, dripping away with the rain that fell from his skin. As the immediate fear lessened, a weakness crept through his body, forcing his arms and shoulders to go limp. He drew in a deep, chest-expanding breath and cracked his eyes. He was staring at the damp grass, barely illuminated by the light of the dining room. Droplets of rain bounced from the earth sending specks of light showering down around him. They gathered like beads on his glasses. “I don’t know.” He stuttered again, pushing himself up from the damp earth to rest on his knees, his head hanging limp from his shoulders. “Seven maybe … dinner time.”

Hannibal paused, allowing Will time to catch his breath. “Do you know where you are?” he asked, still unmoving.

Will wiped his dripping face with his weak, shaking hands. _Do I know where I am?_ Little white dogs – bloody meat – oysters. His lips mouthed the words but did not speak. _Hannibal._ “Baltimore,” he said and his limp arms dropped to his sides.

“And who are you?”

Will looked out into the darkness. More specks of light glinted off the stone wall in front of him. _I know who I am._ “Will Graham.”

“We can stay out here as long as you need, Will. Take your time.”

Will turned just far enough to glimpse Hannibal’s knee kneeling beside him on the stone path through the grass. The rain had drenched his clothing. “You’re soaked,” he said, sniffing his nose.

“So are you.”

Will wiped the salty water from his cheeks. “I’m sorry.”

Hannibal shook his head. “If I’d known you were going to be so disgusted by my menu, I’d have planned something else.”

Will huffed and smiled through his clenched teeth. “Something else?” He took a deep breath and sighed. “Raw oysters and pig blood. They’re my favorite. You know that.” He cleared his throat, listening to Hannibal chuckle behind him. Why now? Why did this happen now, when he was already weak and reeling? Everyone would see him as a crazy now because he couldn’t hold himself together for simple evening meal outside his home. He straightened his back as more rain showered upon them both. “I can go back in.”

“Take your time.”

Will exhaled and rocked to his feet, stumbling back. Hannibal joined him, an arm at the ready to steady him if needed, and the pair wandered back up the stone step into the now dimly-lit dining room.

Will glanced around, noting the lack of sharpness in the room. The walls were bathed in a faint warm glow. Hannibal handed him a towel from a haphazardly gathered pile draped over a dining chair. “Always prepared,” noted Will, drying off his face.

“You’re unpredictable, Will. When you come over, I find it best to prepare for the worst.” Hannibal smiled, tousling his own wet hair in a towel. He unbuttoned his soaked vest and cuff sleeves. “I’ll get you dry clothes.”

Will shook his head. “I’ll be okay in these.”

“No, you won’t,” said Hannibal, ignoring him as he left the dining room to head upstairs.

Will finished drying his hair and draped the towel over a chair. Muddy water had soaked his legs and he peered down, grimacing at the dirt and slop tracked across the floor. That was the least of his concerns at this point. _What the hell is happening?_ Was he losing his mind? He was seeing things now. Horrible evil creatures were plaguing his perpetually-splitting head. He leaned against the table, rehashing his jaunt outside. It was one thing to panic in front of Tonny – there’d be no backlash from that embarrassment – but Hannibal? This would lead to questions – embarrassing questions about his mental stability, and it would eventually trickle back to Jack. All his decisions would be called into question, his judgement would seem impaired, and he was certain he’d be treated as a lunatic. Did he leave the FBI due to stress or because of something much more sinister lurking in the recesses of his mind?

Growing restless, Will meandered around the dining room, flexing his aching body. The fireplace wasn’t lit, though he wished it were, and he debated attempting to light it himself. His wet, freezing button-up and khakis clung to his body, and he yearned for a warm fire to loosen his numbing joints. _A warm fire._ There was warm fire crackling in his home right now, dogs curled up next to it, and Tonny probably asleep on the couch with Aksel. There was a warm oasis waiting for him just an hour and a half away … He sighed and glanced over the fireplace mantel, shaking his head as he gazed at the painting that hung between two vertically displayed bull horns. He’d studied this painting from his seat at the table in the past, but now that he was inches away, he was frankly speechless as to why Hannibal thought it appropriate to display something so lewd in his dining room. The painting depicted a nude reclined woman, her legs spread open to reveal herself, as she tenderly embraced a swan. It seemed an odd choice for a room in which good friends and new acquaintances shared a meal.

“Not fond of your own thoughts at the moment?” asked Hannibal as he entered the dining room, a change of clothes draped over his arm. He was now dressed in a simple ivory button-up and dark brown slacks, his hair still damp and unkempt. “You’ve been studying all my artwork.”

“Art forces us to look at ourselves,” sighed Will, scratching his rain-soaked scalp as he stared at the painting. “It makes us reflect on our own thoughts and values. People surround themselves with what brings them the most pleasure; it’s like perusing someone’s bookshelf – art reflects the owner.”

“We’ve had dinners and sessions here before, and my walls have not changed. Why the sudden urge to know more about me?”

Will’s gaze fell to Hannibal and he scrutinized the man’s face. His sharp clean-shaven jaw mimicked Tonny’s gruff chin. Their lips curled up in the same disconcerting smirk, drawing attention to their piercing, muddy-brown eyes. “I find you interesting.” Will chewed his throbbing tongue.

Hannibal smiled. “That makes two of us.”

Will furrowed his forehead, wondering exactly what he meant by that. Was it self-flattery or a compliment? “Interesting choice for a dining room,” he said, nodding his head towards the painting over the fireplace. He cocked an eyebrow. “Makes me wonder about the walls of your bedroom.”

“My dining room witnesses far more erotic acts,” said Hannibal, snickering. “If this room is occupied, then tongues and mouths are always being pleasured. But I can show you the pieces in my bedroom if you are curious.”

Will chuckled nervously and attempted to dry his glasses on his soaked shirt.

“If you’d like to shower quickly, you’re welcome to,” said Hannibal. A puzzled look spread across Will’s face. “Your face is covered in dirt,” he explained.

Will reached up to his face, smearing grit and mud under his fingers. He grimaced and rubbed the towel across his cheeks. “I don’t need to shower. I feel like I’m perpetually filthy, so I’m used to it.”

“If you won’t shower, at least dry off,” said Hannibal, drawing attention to the dry clothes still draped over his arm.

As he was currently standing in a puddle of water, Will nodded, knowing that he had no rational excuse to refuse, though he was quite uncomfortable with the prospect of wearing Hannibal’s clothing. His dazed eyes fell to his soaked shirt, and he began unbuttoning it.

Hannibal cleared his throat. “You’re more than welcome to change in here, but I do have a bathroom … with a door. I hope that’s okay,” he said with a smile, handing Will the clothing.

Will tongued his cheek and his hands fell from his buttons. He had no intention of changing in the dining room. In Will’s mind, etiquette dictated that he should leave his sopping shirt and muddy shoes by the door. That thought had him suspiciously eyeing the French doors which were now unnervingly closed again, and presumably locked. “In this particular case, doors are fine. But I’ve never been a fan of them – doors, that is. People rely too heavily on them; they find them protective, expecting them to keep all the monsters out.” He inspected the pinstriped dress shirt and gray slacks draped over his arm. There was no way in hell they were going to fit him.

“But doors don’t protect you, do they?”

Will rolled his shoulders as his eyes returned to Hannibal. “Doors box; they imprison. They lock you places you might not want to be. The fewer doors between me and the outside, the better.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” said Hannibal, gesturing towards the doorway leading to the bathroom.

As it was almost eight o’clock and Will had yet to eat a scrap of food, he quickly excused himself to change. When he returned to the dining room, dry and somewhat refreshed in his loose fitting ensemble, he noticed the French doors had been propped open and their place settings had been moved to the opposite end of the table, closer to the garden.

Hannibal was studying the erotic painting of Leda and the Swan when Will joined him. “That hall leads to my front door,” he said, pointing to the doorway towards to the foyer, “and there’s my garden, which you’ve self-toured. Consider this room nothing more than a roof sheltering us from the tempest and the rain.”

Will shook his head. “Thank you, but you don’t have to do that. I’m fine, really,” he insisted, relaxing as a cool breeze swept through the room. Hannibal was now exposing his house to the elements apparently, all because Will looked like a pathetic, panic-stricken basketcase. He attempted to be grateful despite the embarrassment welling within him.

Hannibal dismissed Will’s concern with a wave and gestured towards the table. “Unquiet meals make ill digestions, Will. So let’s try this again, with perhaps a little less excitement,” he said, grinning.

Will chuckled and took his seat, inspecting the new place setting in front of him. This didn’t resemble the table he remembered from earlier in the evening, but their first attempt to eat was hazy and twisted in his mind. The decor across the table seemed much more lively – invigorating, even. Large overabundant centerpieces of five-petaled purple flowers lined the table in broad glass vases. That same shade of purple was carried through the linens and the long runner that flowed over the ends of the table. The shiny, silver platter of oysters was mounded with fresh ice, their pints refilled with black stout, and the place settings cleaned and straightened. Candles flickered and danced above the fireplace and throughout the purple centerpieces, adding a decidedly calming ambiance to the whole dinner. Bowls of bright yellow lemon wedges and various green and red coulis surrounded their plates, and with the breeze drifting through the open door, Will was finding the whole scene somewhat inebriating.

Will watched Hannibal work the tip of his knife under the lip of an oyster shell, rocking it gently until it gave way. He pried the two halves apart and swept his knife under the foot of the creature, dislodging it from its shell. After a squeeze of lemon, the oyster was tipped into his mouth and the shell discarded on his plate. There was a natural grace to Hannibal that Will envied. While the events in the garden felt disjointed and hazy, he could still recall most of what happened. He clearly remembered Hannibal’s voice, soothing and steady, carefully luring him back from the edge of oblivion. Hannibal hadn’t attempted to touch him or enclose him … nor had he panicked, aggravating the situation. He’d remained calm, collected, and in control, like there was nothing unusual about Will’s abnormal behavior.  

Will’s previously dropped oyster had been removed from his plate, and his knife wiped and recentered on his napkin, awaiting his second attempt at his dinner. He pried open an oyster, cut the body loose and tipped it into his mouth, barely tasting it as it slid down his throat.

“I made a cucumber mignonette if you’re avoiding lemon,” said Hannibal, sipping his stout. He pointed to the small bowl of green chutney above Will’s plate.

Will nodded, thankful for the less-acidic topping and retrieved another oyster. Hannibal was being exceedingly accommodating this evening – babying Will’s tongue, comforting him in the rain, and even clothing him when he was soaked. While it was all appreciated, Will sensed an ulterior motive to Hannibal’s unwavering friendliness. Will cracked open the second oyster, topping it with the mignonette. He brought it to his nose, inhaling a sweet metallic aroma and the refreshing scent of cucumber. He tipped the oyster into his mouth, expecting a burn to erupt over his tongue, but was met instead with a surprising sweetness that cooled and revived him.

“You’re tired, Will. Are you sleeping?”

“Sleep is for the weak,” he said, prying open another oyster.

Hannibal faintly cocked a smile. “For some, Will, sleep is the greatest reward – our chance to dream and fantasize. For others, it’s a cruel punishment; but for all, it’s an obligation we cannot avoid.”

“Well let’s hope those who are rewarded live long healthy lives then, Hannibal, and those who are punished die young. I’ll agree that sleep can be pleasant, but death seems a far better option than a lifelong obligatory punishment. I have no time to sleep. There’s a killer on the loose, after all,” he said, straightening up in his chair to slurp back another oyster.

“Don’t spend your nights obsessing, Will, that does nobody any good. We need you in _peak_ condition,” he chuckled. “You’ll start overlooking things otherwise.”

“I don’t need anyone fussing over me; I’m just stressed.” He watched Hannibal cock an eyebrow and suppress a snicker. Will cleared his throat, grumbling to himself, “I know I’m not managing the stress well. But if it was easy to be me, I wouldn’t need you.”

Hannibal smirked as he pried open an oyster. “And how grateful I am to be needed, Will. You give my life such purpose.”

Will shook his head, rolling his eyes. “But between the move, and the job change, Aksel, and, uh, Tonny–” A sharp, shooting pain bolted up his cheek and he gasped, clutching his face. He reached into his mouth and fished out a pearl no larger than a pinhead. “What the _fuck?”_ He stared at it, rolling it between his fingers as he tongued his throbbing tooth. He held it up, incredulously shaking his head. “Can you believe that?” Hannibal held out his palm and Will dropped it into his hand. “I’m starting to think negativity gravitates to me like I’m a black hole of despair. Now even my food’s trying to hurt me,” he moaned, rubbing his aching jaw.

“Occasionally food fights back, Will, it’s a fact of life. It’s all just your perspective,” he said, examining the tiny, iridescent orb, “You just found a natural pearl, and you’re complaining.”

“I didn’t _find_ it; I _bit_ it. And I wasn’t _looking_ for a pearl, Hannibal, so what does it matter that I found one?”  

Hannibal dumped his dish of lemons on his plate and dropped the pearl into the bowl. “God casts pearls and you turn up your nose. If not pearls, what exactly are you looking for then, Will? ”

Will scoffed and slurped the last oyster. “Solitude’s looking pretty damn nice right about now.”

“I don’t believe that for a second,” said Hannibal. “You were in your farmhouse all of – what? – six weeks before you invited an entire family to live with you? That’s not really the behavior of a shut-in.”

Will huffed and rolled his eyes. “Well, my psychiatrist recommended that I hire a hand, so … there’s _that.”_

Hannibal chuckled as he rose to clear the table. The tray of ice was melting and their glasses of stout had been swiftly drained. Will could feel his head softly buzz and relax as his body quickly absorbed the first sustenance it had received all day. Food hadn’t been a priority these last few days as Will’s appetite seemed to be waning. But this meal of clean and appetizing food was already refreshing his senses, despite his dull headache, sore tongue, and exhausted muscles. The alcohol, too, was certainly helping him relax.

Hannibal soon returned with their refilled pints and entrees. Each plate held a miniature golden brown pie covered in a flaky crust and topped with a scattering of chopped herbs. Beside the pie were steaming caramelized leeks, tossed in a mustard dressing that filled the air with a sweet, warm pungency. The rest of the plate was covered in an assortment of carved red, yellow, and maroon radishes. Will’s mouth watered, though he was still hesitant about the contents of the pie. “This looks good enough to eat, Hannibal,” he said, smirking.

Hannibal sneered as he sipped his beer. “Then eat it, Will,” he said, picking up his own fork.

They both began enjoying their long-awaited meal, Will mulling over the iron-rich, dense pie, not entirely sure how he felt about eating such copious amounts of pig’s blood. It was enjoyable, though morbid, and was reminiscent of sweet anise and liver. “We never finished our discussion,” he said between bites, “You were denying that you treat Tonny with an incredible amount of contempt. I’d like to finish that.”

“I denied nothing. I fully admit that I find him an incompetent rube. I apologize if that offends you for some reason,” said Hannibal, a slight apprehension wavering in his voice. “Does it concern you that we’re not friendly?”

“Well, it bothers me that you don’t treat him like a human being,” said Will, wiping his mouth, “You treat him like livestock, herding him around and thinking he’s beneath you.”

“Livestock is useful, Will. Tonny is not.”

Will dropped his fork, “Could you just, maybe … _not_ be a dick for thirty seconds? I know that’s out of character for you, but try.”

“I’m surprised you’re letting it bother you.”

“He’s my tenant and employee. You're my friend and my doctor. Why would someone on the brink of a nervous breakdown want to deal with animosity between their friends and colleagues? It’s petty and childish, not to mention nerve-wracking.”

Hannibal held up his hands. “Fair enough. I concede. Perhaps I am guilty of judging him too swiftly. His approach to Freddie Lound’s aggression was, at least, entertaining.”

Will bit his lip, snickering at the memory of Tonny’s muddy boot landing in the middle of her back. “I'll agree with you there.”

“If it would lessen hostility, I can attempt to look beyond his personality,” said Hannibal, thoroughly enjoying his dinner now that he could watch Will squirm while enjoying his. “Maybe I could speak with him privately and attempt to see what you find so _attractive_ about him.”

Will scoffed at his use of _attraction_. “You two speaking privately? That’s never going to happen. ”

“Why do you say that?”

Will shook his head. There was absolutely no way Tonny would agree to it. He hated Hannibal with a passion that almost rivaled Hannibal’s own disdain for him. “A tear in the fabric of space-time would open and swallow us all if you happened to be alone in the same room; it’s never going to happen.”

Hannibal smiled. “That bad?”

“You’d probably kill him,” he said, chewing another mouthful of leeks. Hannibal studied him as Will hummed with satisfaction, his mouth filling with a sharpness that reminded him of pickled onions. The leeks had been tossed in a sweet, vinegary mustard, but Will’s tongue was completely pain-free. It was astonishing and delicious. “I mean, sometimes _I_ want to kill him,” he prattled on, “He just so goddamn crude.” He pointed his fork at Hannibal. “Cultured society wept the day Tonny was born, but I’ll be the first to admit, he’s kind of fun to have around.” He returned his attention to his plate, slowly reacquainting himself with the blood pie. Though distinctive and macabre, it was just as enjoyable as the leeks.

A delighted grin spread across Hannibal’s face as he watched Will consume his meal with a distinct pleasure. “Maybe he reminds you of your youth?”

Will’s eyes lit up as he laughed, dropping his hand to the table. “No, not at all actually,” he chuckled, “I would have avoided him like a plague when I was younger – too unpredictable, too rash, too senseless.” He took a sip of stout. “But he seems loyal … despite having no moral compass.”

“So he’s basically a dog,” said Hannibal, “I understand your attraction now. I still think I’d like to talk to him privately.”

Any relaxing camaraderie Will had been experiencing was suddenly ignited, burnt to a crisp, and floating away like ash. “Well whatever you do,” he growled, “know that I’d prefer you _stop_ referring to him like an animal. He’s my employee and I don’t need him feeling cornered or degraded by my acquaintances.”

“I’ve been denigrated to acquaintances now? I think you’re overreacting” said Hannibal, snickering to himself.

“You’re disrespectful and I don’t like it. How is that overreacting?” he snapped. Will straightened his back and stretched his neck. This conversation was very unnerving. Will hated discussing Tonny like this – open and vulnerable, and with a person so dismissive towards him. Will had weeks of pent-up aggression all centered around Hannibal’s treatment of Tonny. But now that he was faced with the opportunity to berate Hannibal for his behavior, he felt ambushed himself. “To give some perspective,” he continued, “Tonny moved here from Europe with Aksel, fleeing a terrible situation and ended up working for me … and then with the hospitalization and the rabies … and your insulting commentary,” Will hesitated as he recalled the last six months, “… and-and then my accident that forced him to take care of the farm …” He paused and pulled off his glasses to rub his eyes, admitting to himself that it wasn’t just Hannibal giving Tonny a hard time here. He put his glasses back on and eyed Hannibal, shaking his head. “He’s just not the crude degenerate that you’re assuming he is. There’s so much more to him.”

Hannibal finished his dinner and wiped his mouth. “You’re getting defensive, Will. Do you feel as though I’m attacking your character when I speak to him the way I do?”

“No,” snapped Will, scrunching up his face. “I don’t feel attacked. I’m defending someone who’s vulnerable and is being mistreated. That’s what I’m doing.”

“Are you sure of that? Is Tonny incapable of defending himself?”

Will threw his napkin on the table and pushed away his plate. “No, but that’s irrelevant. He knows I have a relationship with you and _respects_ me enough to not put me in the awkward position of being a mediator between you two.”

Hannibal sat back in his chair, huffing from his nose. “Or maybe he’s too stupid to defend himself, so he forces you to fight his battles for him.”

Will’s mouth dropped open and he shook his head. “This is what I’m talking about.”

Hannibal leaned forward on the table. “I’d like to know why you feel so protective of him. He’s your employee, not your son. And that child of his is not your grandchild. Do you need reminding of that?”

Will grit his teeth. “His name is _Aksel_ , and I don’t think of Tonny as my son,” he snapped, a little more forceful than he had intended. He crossed his arms, nostrils flaring.

“But you _treat_ him like your son,” said Hannibal, with a cocky smirk. “You make him keep your secrets, bond with him over fishing and hunting trips, order him around like he owes you something. You treat him like your teenage son, Will, admit it.”

Will scoffed, averting his widened eyes to his empty plate. “That is absolutely asinine. I don’t think of him as my _son,_ that’s disgusting.” He rubbed his forehead, wiping away the sweat that was quickly collecting on his temples.

Hannibal’s brows raised and he watched Will nervously scratch his neck. He crossed his own arms and leaned back in his chair, wondering about Will’s interesting use of _disgusting._ “Dessert?” he asked.

Will narrowed his eyes, suspicious of the sudden derailment of the conversation. “I’m pretty full.”

“We can continue our conversation in the living room, then. If you change your mind, Alana sent me a box of French chocolates after the dinner party.”

Will bit his lip, suddenly realizing he’d not brought or sent anything to Hannibal after the party. Was he expected to, considering the circumstances? After the party his mind had been reeling over the assailment at dinner and Tonny’s unexpected sexual advances in the truck beforehand. He was grateful this dinner seemed to be far more benign than the last, despite the panic attack, hallucinations, and goading conversation.

Hannibal stood and Will followed him to the living room where the pair switched from stout to scotch. Will did not often frequent the living room, and he was somewhat troubled by the unfamiliarity. Sessions were typically at Hannibal’s office, which was much more comfortable for him. But if he chose to speak with his doctor here in the man’s home, they used his study. The rest of their time together was spent in the kitchen. Since Will didn’t want this evening to venture too close to a clinical session, he decided continuing their discussion in the horn-filled, amber-colored living room was probably in his best interest.

Hannibal sat down in one of the two velvet green chairs and waited for Will to join him. The busy golden wallpaper and eclectic melange of art and artifacts tastefully occupying the room seemed far more interesting to Will than continuing their probing conversation about Tonny. He prowled along walls, inspecting the paintings and decor of this unexplored room. For some reason, his mind was obsessed with cataloging Hannibal’s possessions. Each figure, sculpture, and skull of a ruminant seemed perfectly in place and curated like a museum. It was such a stark contrast to the hodgepodge of flea market art and fly fishing posters that adorned his own home. This room felt intentionally threatening.

“Are you going to sit or grope through my mind again?” asked Hannibal, studying Will as he roamed.

“Anything of note in here?” he asked. The ice in his scotch clinked as he leaned to read the spines of several stacks of oversized books – all related to the arts.

“Everything is of note, or it isn’t allowed in my home, Will,” he replied, still eyeing him.

Will inspected the skull of a ram. Its thick curved rack was one of four sets of horns adorning the room. “You seem to have an affinity for horns ... I see no fangs or claws,” he said, running his fingers along the edge of the harpsichord, “Do you always surround yourself with prey?”

“Always,” replied Hannibal, reclining in his chair as he sipped his scotch.

Will nodded as he slowly ambled across the marble tiled floor. “Horns are penetrative,” he said, removing his glasses to inspect the sharpened tips of a set of glossy, smooth nyala horns. They thrusted up from the table behind a sofa in the middle of the room. “Do you always surround yourself with such phallic symbols?” he asked, glancing back to Hannibal.

He snickered as he studied him. “Always,” he said, taking another sip. “I used to have a Japanese blowgun on that wall. I wonder what you’d have said about that.”

Will chuckled at the implication. “A blowgun ... Where is it now?”

“Germany,” he said curtly, glancing at the floor.

Will nodded, noting Hannibal’s blunt tone and continued, “Well, I might not have read too deeply into that,” he said with a sigh. He straightened his back and cocked his head,  “Isn’t that a hobby for old Japanese men? Not really what I’d call threatening … or sensual.”

Hannibal laughed and nodded in acquiescence.

The room was trimmed with a collection of leathers and exotic animal hides. “There’s a lot of flesh in here, the mounted head aside,” said Will, nodding to the taxidermied kudo over the fireplace. Its large, twisted, black horns dominated a wall otherwise covered by paintings in gilded frames.

“I appreciate flesh and skin. It excites me.”

Will continued to wander, his fingers trailing across a pillow made of okapi hide. “You aren’t alone in appreciation flesh and skin.”

Hannibal cocked his head. “Is that who you want to talk about? – Hobbs?”

“No.”

“Tonny then?”

Will looked up from scrutinizing Hannibal’s barware, “Is that who _you_ want to talk about?”

“I’d like to bury the hatchet so we can move on. I know my disdain for him bothers you,” said Hannibal, reclining in his chair now that he had caught Will’s attention.

Will agreed under his breath, returning his glasses to his face, and finally joined Hannibal in the adjacent green velvet chair.

“Will, can I ask you a question? But I don’t want you to be offended.”

Will sipped his scotch. “If you have to tell someone to not get offended, Hannibal, it means you’re about to say something offensive.”

Hannibal nodded but continued, “Does Tonny get to see more of you than perhaps you intend – mentally or physically?”

Will stiffened and glared at him, slowly shaking his head. “No, why would you ask that?”

Hannibal deeply exhaled, humming to himself. “Close quarters can breed difficult situations for even the most socially adept, Will. For someone like yourself, I’d imagine forced closeness – that is, sharing the same space with someone – has to wear on you.” He tapped his temple as he continued, “He’s getting lodged in your mind. I’m sure that’s uncomfortable.”

Will shook his head. Hannibal was prying a little too deeply. “We have our own privacy; it’s a big house. We’re both _adults_ – capable of respecting each other’s space.”

Hannibal bit his lip as he deliberated his next question. “Has he witnessed you at your weakest yet? During a nightmare or blackout? If he has, and it scared him, I can understand your concern for his well-being. There’s nothing wrong with feeling a need to defend and protect children, Will.”

Will grit his teeth, bristling at the comment. Was he serious? Did he actually believe Will considered Tonny a child to protect and take care of? Will’s guts churned and his mouth filled with a bitterness that was reflected on his tongue. “I’m defending an _adult_ who is being needlessly verbally assaulted … by _you,_ my asshole doctor. _That_ is what I’m doing.”

Hannibal chuckled and held up his hands. “Okay. I apologize if my behavior towards him has made you uncomfortable. I would never want my presence to strain your budding personal relationships.” He smiled and sipped his drink.

“Don’t patronize me, Hannibal,” said Will, leaning on his knees. “If you’ve got something to say, out with it,” he snapped. His heart raced at the prospect of this conversation leading anywhere near his sexual relationship with Tonny, because now it was obvious Hannibal was forcing Will to admit it. He was disgusted that he felt backed into a corner now, having to explain and defend his sexual choices.

“I invited you here as a friend, not a patient, Will. We will discuss only what you’re comfortable with. If that includes Tonny, so be it. If not … then we can discuss the weather.”

Will glared at him, his lip quivering into a sneer. _Condescending bastard._ His fingernails dug into his knees. _This_ was the battle Will was raging to fight. Despite the topic’s inevitability, it was still none of Hannibal’s concern. Will’s relationship with Tonny’s was his own business, but it now disgusted him to no end to think that Hannibal continued to paint him in a fatherly role for both of his new tenants. Will was already struggling to define his relationship to Tonny, and much of his apprehension stemmed from his inability to accept their relationship as anything but inappropriate. Hannibal, it seemed, was just confirming this suspicion. Will desperately wanted to divulge his concerns with someone to gain even a modicum of insight into his own bizarre desires – perhaps even naming his demons – but when the opportunity to disclose his relationship presented itself, to either Hannibal or Alana, he always excused himself, unable to face his own repulsion.

Hannibal smiled at the seething man across from him. “Do you have something you need to share, Will? Purely confidential, remember,” he assured.

Will scoffed. “Confidential?” He leaned back and crossed his arms. “I thought this was a _friendly_ visit, Hannibal, not a session.” He narrowed his eyes. Hannibal had to know. The bastard had to know about Tonny and him, and he was just toying with him now.

Hannibal straightened his back, his face stern and eyes boring into Will. “I would never betray your trust, Will. Everything you tell me has always been confidential.”

Will maintained eye contact despite his growing need to look away. “You’ve obviously figured it out. I’ve not exactly been _subtle_ ,” he said, still avoiding the topic and attempting to save himself embarrassment.

Hannibal inhaled, tapping his knuckle to his chin. “Will, why is this so hard for you to admit out loud? Are you ashamed of yourself?”

“No,” he snapped, strumming his fingers on the arm of the chair. Hannibal stared at Will’s hand, waiting for his real response. “Some things,” he said, “I’m ashamed of _some_ … things. Not all.”

Hannibal cringed. “You don’t have to share _those_ things, Will. I fact, I’d prefer that you didn’t,” he said taking another sip.

“For fuck’s sake, this is ridiculous,” burst Will. He leaned forward on his knees cradling his face in his hands. “I’m sleeping with Tonny,” he blurted. “We have, or I don’t know, _had_ , a physical relationship. And this is insane because there’s no reason I should feel like I can’t say these things. And your constant goading of me is just cruel. I’m already dealing with my intense shame and guilt over the whole damn thing, I don’t need you judging me too!” He stopped and caught his breath, dropping his hands.

Hannibal paused. “Why do you feel guilt, Will?”

Will reclined again, slouching in the seat. “Because he’s ten years younger than me, and he’s renting a room in my home, and my employee,” he prattled, rehashing his list of personal infractions. “I’m literally paying him to be there. I just paid someone to stay with me because I’m so fucking lonely and my head feels like it’s being shredded from the inside ... I just paid someone to fuck around with me,” he said and his shoulders dropped. He blankly stared at the lamp that bathed the harpsichord in a warm glow and sighed.

“Prostitution is legal in Denmark, Will; I’m sure he doesn’t think anything of it,” said Hannibal with a smirk. “Knowing Tonny, those are probably the only sexual experiences he’s ever had.”

Will’s black eyes returned to Hannibal, flinging icy dagger at his throat. “Jokes? You think this is funny?”

Hannibal held up his hand, shaking his head. “I don’t, Will. I don’t think it’s funny at all. I may find your reaction mildly amusing ...”

“Amusing? My pain and self-loathing … _amuses you_?”

“No, but I find your disgust with yourself over sleeping with that cretin amusing.” He bit his lip as he watched Will shake his head, completely speechless. He finally dropped his hand. “You said you felt ashamed, humiliated … care to share why?”

“Not fucking now!” he spit, throwing his hands in the air.

“Will,” said Hannibal, intentionally calming his amusement, “I’d like to help you through this. It’s obviously excruciating for you. I’m sorry for my reaction. I am, honestly, a little shocked. Allow me that.”

“You’re not the only one _shocked_ …” he snapped, crossing his arms. “I don’t normally go around fucking homeless drug addicts! I’d appreciate some goddamn tact!”

Hannibal paused, consciously stifling his laughter. “Shame, humiliation …” he repeated, “You’re both adults, as you have reiterated … and no one is judging you, Will. Why do you feel ashamed?”

This was exhausting. Will was in no mood to divulge this information to a man who he knew to be secretly laughing at him. But now he felt compelled to defend himself and he had to continue. He pulled off his glasses and closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. “He’s vulnerable, scared, abused … He’s optionless,” he sighed. “You have no idea what he went through in Copenhagen. It’s despicable.”

Hannibal tilted his head and raised his eyebrows. “Would you like to tell me about it?”

Will shook his head. “That’s not my story to tell.”

“Well, what do _you_ need to say, Will? It can be very cathartic to hear your own thoughts outside your head.”

Will tipped his head back in the chair, and slid down the back, collapsing deeper into a slouch on the seat. “I don’t even know how this happened,” he confessed, blankly staring towards Hannibal. “I’ve never done something like this before. I just don’t know what’s wrong with me ...” He scrunched up his face, cringing. “Why the hell would I be attracted to Tonny, for god’s sake?” he said, covering his eyes again.

It was obvious Will was deeply troubled by the situation, so Hannibal softened his voice. “It feels good to share our bodies with others when we know we’re in a safe place, Will. You feel comfortable with him because he’s not going to stand up and walk away when you’re raw and exposed.”

Will scoffed and lowered his hand. “Oh, good, so I did trap him.”

Hannibal snickered but continued, “No, you just know that he’s going to be there when you wake up, regardless of what happens between you two. It’s a safety net for _you_ to feel comfortable, Will, not to trap him.”

“Why would I even want anything from him? There’s no intimate bond or connection between us. We have nothing in common.”

“He has no one else to share his physical intimacy with, so he shared it with you. And you can feel protective of it and guarded by it – two things you cling to when you’re feeling vulnerable. You’re undoubtedly empathizing with him and his troubled past has to bother you. You want to bring him comfort in the same way you want to be comforted. And you’re both consenting adults, Will; you don’t need to feel embarrassed by any of this. But as I’ve said before, this is an area in which you should tread very lightly.”

Will clenched his jaw, fuming more now than the last time Hannibal had suggested Will _tread lightly_ at the mention of feeling sexually unfulfilled. Hannibal always found a way to scatter Will’s wants to the wind by suggesting that he was – in some way – simply abnormal. “So I have to _tread lightly_ because I can’t have what everyone else has – uncomplicated sex? Why is that, for some reason, off-limits to me?”

Hannibal chuckled and finished his scotch. “I find it amusing that you think uncomplicated sex even exists. It’s _always_ complicated for at least one person involved. And you’re already forming your own bond with Tonny; you can’t avoid it. You _want_ an intimate psychological connection with him but it’s only because he’s in your home. That desire was imminent the day you offered him a room. That would have held true for _any_ new tenant, Will.” He stood up and walked to the bar to pour himself another drink. “Tonny’s body may mean something to you now, but I guarantee that his mind will always be useless to you; and that’s as it should be, as far as I’m concerned.”

Will grit his teeth, strumming his fingers on the velvet chair. This was ludicrous and insulting, and not just to Tonny. “So I’m a desperate, sexually repressed mental case now? I’d like to know what makes you so damn sure that you know more about my needs than I do?”

Hannibal shook his head and continued pouring, deciding a double scotch may now be in order. “I watch your behavior, Will. It’s why you come to me every week. You need someone to tell you   what makes you so vastly different from the rest of the population because you can’t figure it out on your own. When I tell you you’re special, you bask in it, but when I tell you you’re broken, you refuse to hear logic. One can only see reality through open eyes.”

Hannibal finished pouring his drink and watched Will shift in his seat, growing increasingly uncomfortable with this conversation. He finally rejoined him. “You’ve already admitted to feeling shame and guilt over your relationship with him, where do you think that stems from?”

Will crossed his arms and huffed. “I already told you where it comes from –,” he snapped, “his age, his situation, his vulnerability ...”

“And you’re wrong. What you’re _actually_ feeling is the guilt associated with knowing that he’s completely inappropriate for you. When I say _tread lightly_ , I don’t mean be mindful of moving too quickly or sharing too much ... I mean that you have an inherent flaw that you’re refusing to accept. You’re pairing your _need_ for psychological intimacy with a sexual relationship that is solely based on mutual consolation. You’re creating something entirely different than just casual sex because you _need_ more intimacy than that. You are, as we speak, creating a cocktail of physiological and emotional attachments to that man. And I know for a fact that you don’t logically intend for those attachments to be forming at all.”

Will shook his head, refusing to acknowledge the nonsense. “What are you saying? You think I’m falling in love with him? I’m not falling in love with Tonny just because we’ve had sex a couple of times.”

“Will, you’re going to hate yourself if you do.”

“You make it sound like I should avoid love at all costs like it’s too detrimental to my well-being.”

“I don’t think that at all, Will. Under the right circumstances, you could have a very supportive relationship. But it would have to be with someone who can actually understand you.”

“And Tonny can’t understand me?”

“No. He can’t. It’s not possible for you to feel supported by someone that you will always feel the need to defend. You cannot feel protected by someone who’s oblivious to your needs or your potential.”

“I don’t _need_ to be protected, Hannibal,” snapped Will. “And what makes _you_ an authority on my needs and potential? You think I’m so weak that I’ll fall for whoever shows me the most attention!”

Hannibal sighed, his frustration growing. “Whether you’re willing to accept it or not, you are vulnerable to coercion, Will. Tonny doesn’t even see it and yet you will become a slave to him if you aren’t careful.”

“I know the potential is there for me to be overwhelmed in a relationship. It’s happened before, and I fully admit that. I’m well aware of what happens when I get too close to people. But I’m not made of paper, Hannibal. I’m not going to fall apart.”

Hannibal shook his head. “He will _never_ understand you on an intimate emotional level, Will. Never. Do not confuse his desire for sex with a loving, respectful relationship. He cannot offer you that.”

Will scoffed at his patronizing tone. “So according to you, I have to remain celibate lest I get too attached to someone who may not be my ideal mate. And what do I gain from that? What am I protecting myself from? A broken heart? I’m a grown man, for god’s sake!” he snapped, slamming his drink on the side table.

“You’re not listening to me, Will,” argued Hannibal. His frustration was tightening his voice. “If you need this time to explore your sexuality in a safe environment, I support you. But I will remind you that sexual cravings wane. We need psychological and intellectual intimacy until the day we die. Your mind will always need more sustenance than your body. I don’t want to discourage you from making attachments or being sexually fulfilled, I’m simply adding my perspective as your doctor and your friend, Will. And while I take issue with your growing attachment to Tonny, I’m far more concerned that you’re becoming dangerously close to his child. If you don’t start distancing yourself from him, Tonny will eventually move on, taking that boy with him, and you will _never_ recover from that loss.”

Will downed the rest of his scotch and stood up, turning his back to Hannibal as he walked to the bar. This was not about Aksel. Will refused to bring him into this. He dropped his glass on the bar intending to refill it and drown his seething anger … but he didn’t. He turned back to Hannibal, sneering and gesticulating as he fumed. “I’m thirty-four years old. Who am I waiting for, Hannibal? Who do you consider my perfect mate? – A dame of wisdom, virtue, fair-hair, and nobility? Oh, and she has to be musically inclined too, right? Is that who I should be looking for?” He scoffed as he shook his head in disgust. His eyes suddenly widened as if struck by an epiphany and he bounded to the other side of the room. “Oh my god … _You’re_ blonde and you play the harpsichord,” he mocked, rapping on the top of the instrument. “Hell, you’re wise and noble, too. And you apparently understand me better than I fucking understand myself!” His mouth dropped open in feigned astonishment. “You’re _perfect_ for me, Hannibal! We should elope! Fuck, let’s get married and sail to Cuba!” Will huffed as his gaze locked on Hannibal’s black, rage-filled eyes. He could feel the tension building in the room like a poisonous fog creeping through the air. When he could no longer take the mounting pressure, his eyes fell to Hannibal’s clenched jaw, which chewed and ground whatever biting retort he was suppressing. Will rubbed his mouth and exhaled a shuddering sigh from his tightened chest. He leaned back against the harpsichord and crossed his arms in thought.

Hannibal relaxed his jaw and leaned back in his chair. “A lesser man would have lost his tongue over that tirade, Will,” he said, his voice stern and deep, “Be grateful I still consider you a friend. I don’t want to see you hurt. If my concern for you makes me look foolish … then consider me a fool.”

Will huffed out his nose, the disdain building again as he pointed at Hannibal, his tone sharp and savage. “Not ten fucking minutes ago you were trying to make me feel ashamed for my relationship with Tonny. You called him stupid, you called me weak, and you tried to guilt me into ending something that I’m not ready to end. So you tell me Hannibal, how do _you_ like being made to feel foolish because of who you love?” Will stood up, gripping his stomach, immediately overcome with a nauseating sense of remorse. Why did he say that? It was way too cruel.

Hannibal’s eyes had fallen to the floor and his thumb rhythmically stroked his chin. The silence that pervaded the room was deafening, the visceral pain between them both tangible. They sat in abject sorrow until Hannibal finally spoke, “Are you admitting that you’re already in love with Tonny?”

Will took a deep breath and returned to leaning against the harpsichord. “Are you admitting that you’re in love with me?”

“You’re my patient, Will,” said Hannibal, shaking his head.

“And he’s my farm hand, Hannibal. And he’ll never be anything more than that.” Will dropped his head and cradled his forehead. _He’s my farm hand,_ he echoed in his mind. He inhaled a deep, exhausted sigh and rubbed his face. “I need to go,” he mumbled, turning to the door. “I’ll see you next week.” He crept to the doorway but stopped when he heard Hannibal lean forward in his chair.

“You’ll never love him, Will.”

Will scratched his face, refusing to turn around and face him. “I know,” he said, pausing to breathe. “But, I already love his son.” He forced back a guttural moan at that admission and left the room, determined to slip away from the house as quickly and as quietly as humanly possible.

* * *

 

_Tap ... tap ... tap …_

Will jerked awake, throwing himself back against the seat. He glanced around in the darkness, alone, confused, and freezing. Bolts of pain shot through his cheeks, blinding him with bursts of light behind his eyelids. He slowed his breath, listening for the faint knocking that roused him from his sleep. Only silence. Only the sound of his panting breath resounded through the darkened chamber he was sitting in. Sweat gathered and dripped from his chin and he frantically groped in the darkness, smacking his knuckles against the steering wheel of his truck – his truck. He was in his truck.

_Tap, tap, tap …_

He stiffened but remained silent, his thoughts whispering to avoid being heard outside his mind. _What the fuck is that?_ His eyes drifted out the window and centered on the black creature looming outside the door, it’s claw resting against the glass. His lungs emptied as he dove across the seat, fumbling for the passenger door handle. The demon flew over the truck and scraped down the window over Will’s head as he recoiled back to the driver’s seat, scouring the wheel for keys. _No keys. Oh god! …_ He gripped his head, rocking on his seat. _No, no, no, no ... please ..._

The creature remained motionless as the claw slowly dropped, ending the scratching and tapping against glass. Will focused on his heaving chest as his head turned to face the demon now bathed in the gentle glow of a streetlamp. _Is that … ? Fuck … Tonny._ He hesitated and exhaled a sigh of relief as he waited for his brain to relax and reassess the demon’s face that still smoldered in his mind. He clenched his eyes and shook his head to dissipate the monster.

When he no longer felt the gut-wrenching threat of imminent danger, he crawled across the seat and cracked the window. Tonny was backlit, shaking his head and Will squinted, a black tee-shirt forming across the man’s chest. He glanced up at Tonny’s face to see his narrowed, accusatory eyes staring at him and Will cleared his raspy voice. “Yeah, I know I’m late, don’t get pissed at me,” he said as he continued rolling down the window. “I fell asleep and I’m a goddamn mess. And I can’t be alone tonight so you’re sleeping with me.” He sat back up and leaned his head on the seat. “And we have to talk. And I mean right _fucking_ now. This whole night was a disaster.”

“I’m sorry you felt that way, Will, but I was just bringing you these,” said Tonny, holding up Will’s keys.

Will stared at the keys through the darkness. _Those aren’t mine._ His head tilted, recognizing his truck key dangling from Tonny’s fingers. “Why do you have my keys … ?” His mind grappled with the memories of pouring blood and panic, twisting oysters, twisted horns … “How did you get my keys?” Did he dream that? Had he never left the farm? His hands searched his pockets, as though the keys hanging outside the window had to be an illusion. The fabric of his clothes felt wet and soft. He stared down at his body clad in a sweat-soaked pinstriped button down, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. The pocket he was scouring wasn’t in his khakis, but rather baggy gray slacks that clung to his legs. These were Hannibal’s clothes. He looked back up at the man still holding his keys and his mind finally focused on Hannibal’s darkened eyes.

“I wish I would have searched your pants earlier,” he said with a smile. “I would have found you a lot sooner.”

Will’s body and lungs stiffened and he cleared his throat, sending a tender ache from his chest through his trembling arms and legs. “How, uh, how long was I asleep?” he asked, staring at the steering wheel.

Hannibal leaned in the window to inspect Will’s soaked clothing. “A few hours. You should come inside; you’re in no state to drive home now.”

The evening, in all of its brilliant and bloody glory, fell like a deluge from the sky, and Will was certain he didn’t want to go back in Hannibal’s house. Their earlier conversation had been rather raw, exposing both of them to more painful revelations than either were prepared for. He reached for his phone to check the time but there was no phone in these unfamiliar pants. “My, uh, my phone, do you have it, too? I need it.”

“Yes. And it’s been buzzing since … I’d say eleven.”

“Shit,” he sighed, rubbing the back of his aching head. He peered at Hannibal from the corner of his eye. _Did he hear what I said earlier? What did I say? Did I call him Tonny? No ..._ “I, uh, have to call Tonny.” He unlocked the door and dropped out, landing on his unsteady feet. He stumbled, still dazed and distracted as Hannibal rounded the truck and caught his arm.

“You’re in far worse shape than you let on, Will,” he said, wrapping his arm around Will’s waist.

Will lurched from his grasp. “I’m fine,” he snapped, wiping his sweaty face. Hannibal withdrew his hand and they plodded back up to the house in silence.

The endless throbbing in Will’s head was creating a sensation akin to being lost at sea during a turbulent storm. He tried not to stumble, but once he’d reached the entryway, his legs buckled and he collapsed onto a chair, climbing into it like he was pulling himself from murky depths. He wrenched two pillows from behind him and threw them to the floor at Hannibal’s feet, carefully avoiding the man’s eyes. He wasn’t behaving strangely, not by the very low standards he was now maintaining. He was tired; it was late, and he was emotionally and physically drained. He was not, in any way, weak or unstable, though he was tripping and a bit sluggish.

“I think you should stay the night, Will, and if you fight me on this, I will sedate you. I have everything I’d need.”

The tone of Hannibal's voice was indecipherable, but whether or not he was joking was irrelevant. It was a terrible idea. “I don’t think I should stay,” said Will. “I think that’s just asking for trouble, and I think we both need some distance for the time being.”

“Do you think you can drive? You fell asleep in your truck without your keys or your phone … or your clothes – technically.” Hannibal grinned and cocked his head. “You’re staying. Your clothes are already clean and on your bed.”

Will cleared his throat. “Um, whose bed?”

“Your bed,” snapped Hannibal.

“Is that bed also _your_ bed?” he asked, still avoiding eye contact.

Hannibal threw his hands up. “Why would it be _my_ bed, Will? I said _your_ bed; I have a guest room.”

“Just asking!” Will shook his head. This was not going to end well. “I need to call Tonny.”

“I’m sure he’s fine,” said Hannibal, dismissing the thought with a wave, “He doesn’t strike me as the worrying type.”

“Um, no, I have to. I sort of made a scene the night he was out late … when I called you … I’d hate to be hypocritical and randomly not come home.” Hannibal cocked a brow. “I, uh, yelled … I may have called him a child.” He glared at Hannibal’s smug expression. “He’s _not_ a child … he just made a poor decision and we spoke about it.”

“Did you send him to his room?” he asked, still grinning.

Oh, this was pleasant. “Stop it,” he warned. This was the antagonism he’d been trying to flee. The entire evening had been for naught, though Will’s heart had been temporarily thawed by holding Abigail's little white dog. “Shit …” he remembered, “I forgot my painting ... I think.” Did he? Did that even happen? Was there a painting? He eyed Hannibal, attempting to discern from his reaction if what he’d just said seemed rational.

“Yes you did; it’s on your bedside table in the guest room.”

Will bit his lip, nodding. “Thank you,” he said, trying to stand, “I think I need to sleep.”

Hannibal stepped down the hall. “Come with me for a moment.”

Will carefully followed him back to the dimly-lit kitchen. The leather chair in the corner of the room seemed entirely too inviting, and Will plunged into it with closed eyes. The metallic clatter of his keys against the stainless steel counter rattled in his throbbing head and he cringed. He relaxed again as the room fell silent until he heard the dull thud of a refrigerator door closing. Liquid trickled, making hardly any noise at all, and Will finally opened his burning eyes. A glass of water hovered in front of his face and he took it, gulping it with such urgency that it poured from the corners of his mouth. As it emptied, he stood and stumbled to the sink, refilling the glass and downing it again in a similarly crude manner.

Hannibal crossed his arms and leaned on the island. “Are you okay, Will?”

“I’m fine. I’m just thirsty,” he said, still bent over the sink. “I sweat when I sleep … and then with all the beer we drank … I’m dehydrated.” He turned around, wiping his mouth on his shirt sleeve, noting Hannibal’s contempt for his poor choice of a napkin. Will brushed off his sleeve and straightened his back.“I _may_ be having a more difficult time than I let on earlier,” he finally admitted. As he appeared to be behaving like a madman, Will decided to confess his obvious personal turmoil since this night seemed unwilling to end. “I’m in a fog all the time now, and it’s like my life feels completely meaningless … or-or worthless, rather.” He shook his head and leaned his arms on the counter. “I thought leaving the FBI would help … but it didn’t. I thought the farm would help, but that –” he scoffed, shaking his head, “– that’s been a goddamn disaster. And now I have Tonny fucking shit up, and-and Aksel.” He swallowed and glanced up at Hannibal. “And then I got roped back into everything with the Ripper, and that’s been …” he trailed off, disgusted by his unwavering compulsion to find this elusive madman. “Now I spend my nights obsessing over him. I can’t stop thinking about him. Where is his right now? Is he planning something? I drive to Quantico and start obsessing over where he is at any given time. Is he driving somewhere too? I’ll be holding Aksel, and I’ll wonder if he held Councilman Oakley’s son before he dropped him in his crib to go butcher and string up his father. I close my eyes at night and see myself sitting down at his dinner table ...” He sharply inhaled, holding the breath in his lungs. “I see his plate and his drink in front of me. And I feel his delight, his self-satisfaction wash over me and … it-it scares me. It scares me because the only peace I’ve felt in months is what I feel when I empathize with him, a goddamn murderer.” He ripped off his glasses, dropping them to the counter and palmed his eyes. “Everything terrifies me because I know he’s lurking right here, right here in my head. So then when I slip up, or I’m exhausted, or I panic about something ridiculous, he attacks me while I’m weak. And now I’m hearing things, and seeing things … and fear just pours over me and I feel … I feel unstable … and helpless.”

Hannibal nodded, listening to him divulge his anxieties. “Why do you think you feel peace when you empathize with him, Will?”

“Because he’s getting exactly what he wants. He’s comfortable and he thinks he’s untouchable. Everything he accomplishes is self-serving and every time he watches me fail, his ego is stroked. He is at peace. He’s still gift wrapping crime scenes, Hannibal, like I’m a child who needs my hand held. Oakley was planning to rezone half the land along the river, and I don’t believe for a second that his death had nothing to do with me and my farm. The Ripper drew so much attention to Oakley’s proposal that the whole damn thing’s been shelved for the next five years. That directly affected me, Hannibal. The Ripper is practically courting me now.” Will stood up from the island with a huff, still rubbing his face.

“So you think he presented you with a gift. How do you feel about that?”

“How do I feel? Like a murderer. A person is dead because he wanted my attention. That’s more than a little unsettling.”

“Why do you think he wants _your_ attention, Will?”

Will shook his head, his eyes glazing over as he wracked his mind. “He feels a connection with me. He feels like I understand him. He wants to talk and this is the only way we can do that.”

“If he wants to speak to you, what do you think he intends to say?”

“I don’t know. But this is elaborate and intimate. He’s thinking about my home and my life – it was a very personal gift. He’s not threatening me. He’s never threatened me, only showed me what I needed to see ... He led me to Hobbs.” Will paused, reflecting on the many reasons someone so profoundly reviled by society might want to connect with him on a personal level. “I think he thinks he’s protecting me … I think he’s lonely and I think he sees me as a friend.”

“Do psychopaths feel loneliness, Will?”

“I’m not sure he’s a psychopath. This is delicate and careful. It’s reflective of intense emotions and he’s yearning for intimacy; these are not traits indicative of a textbook psychopath. There is so much more here, and I can feel it.”

“So, is it his peace that scares you? Or is it your growing connection to him?”

“I don’t know … both. I don’t want to feel a connection to him, but he’s forcing me to question myself, making me weigh my own life against someone like Oakley who was willing to destroy my home and the homes of dozens of people to further his political career. Obviously eviscerating the man and hanging him over the river was the wrong way to accomplish that goal, and I fully recognize that this whole situation could all just be a ploy to catch me getting a little too comfortable. Regardless of his needs, he wants to keep me off balance, and making me question my sanity would be an excellent strategy.”

“Do you think he draws satisfaction from knowing you suffer in your search for him?”

“I would hope he wouldn’t know that much about me. But are you beginning to appreciate my many reasons for despising Freddie Lounds? That woman has single-handedly destroyed my credibility and could be the reason the Ripper feels a personal connection to me. My disdain for her runs very, very deep at this point ...” He rubbed his scratchy eyes, the late hour catching up to him.

“Aside from our weekly sessions, what are you doing to keep yourself grounded, Will? We’ve talked about reminding yourself of the time and your location, but how else are you managing the stress you’re under? You said your life feels worthless to you, despite the move.” He wandered to a cupboard in the corner of the kitchen and retrieved a white china teacup rimmed in silver. He returned to the island and set it in front of Will. “Does it feel like a shroud of anxiety following you or a cloud of doom?”

“It feels more like I’m drowning. I can’t breathe. I can never breathe,” he said, gazing into the empty cup.  

Hannibal crouched to a low cabinet and retrieved a glass teapot and kettle. “My alma mater released a study recently in which they treated feelings of hopelessness and severe depression with psilocybin.” He filled a kettle with water from a pitcher in the fridge as Will’s narrowed eyes tracked him through the kitchen. “They found that a single dose prompted a welcome sense of openness in more than half their patients. For some, astonishingly, this feeling lasted well over a year.” He set the kettle on the range, lit the burner, and fetched a jar from the top shelf of a cupboard, setting it in front of Will. Dried, shriveled mushrooms filled the jar, and Will picked it up, rotating it in his hand.

“You have an entire jar of magic mushrooms,” he said, snickering. “You have Grateful Dead posters in your bedroom, don’t you?”

Hannibal chuckled. “My offer to show you my bedroom still stands, Will. This is the second time you’ve brought it up.”

Will smirked and watched the mushrooms tumble around the jar as he turned it in his hands.

“Are you willing to try?” asked Hannibal.

Will stood up, his eyes wide, incredulously gawking at Hannibal. “You want me to … are you serious?” He set down the jar. “You can’t be serious.”

“I’m just offering you an alternative to antidepressants, Will. This is a controlled environment and there is a certified psychiatrist present.” He smiled and leaned his hip on the counter.

“I think you mean _certifiable_ psychiatrist,” he scoffed.

“If you’re uncomfortable, Will, _just say no_.” Hannibal smiled and picked up the jar.

Will chuckled and scratched his face. “I’ve always stayed far away from psychotropics. Never felt they were a good fit for me.”

“That’s a good stance to take, and I would agree with you for the most part, so I leave this decision entirely up to you.”

“It could last a year, you say …” said Will, taking a deep breath, still shaking his head. He eyed the jar in Hannibal’s hands, biting his lip. It wasn’t a _crazy_ idea … maybe unorthodox, but a lot of their evening sessions were a tad unorthodox. Some of Hannibal’s unconventional treatments may have left Will feeling dazed or a little disoriented, but at least Hannibal was trying to help him. Though he wasn’t enthusiastic about drug use, as Hannibal had reassured him, he was in a controlled environment with someone he trusted – a doctor no less. And he was at the end of his rope – nightmares, hallucinations, and now he was having weekly panic attacks.

He removed the lid to the teapot and looked up at Hannibal. “Just don’t let me run around outside naked and screaming.”

Hannibal smiled and opened the jar of mushrooms. “But naked and screaming _inside_ is still fine, correct?” He smirked as he dropped them in the pot.

Will grimaced and rubbed his forehead. “Totally fine,” he nervously snickered, absolutely certain he was making the worst decision he could possibly make.

 


	26. Grind Your Bones to Dust

“This is the propeller,” said Will, slowly turning the motor’s propeller for Aksel to watch. “It’s supposed to spin around like this when it’s running, but this one is, unfortunately, unhappy – but only for the time being.” It was mid-afternoon and Will was in the barn, sprawled out on a tarp with a disassembled boat motor. These precious hours with Aksel every day were what drew Will out of bed each morning despite his sleepless nights and splitting headaches. There was nothing he enjoyed more than sharing his passions with the ten-month-old toddler, and that day, he’d been asked by a neighbor to repair a broken trolling motor. He was thrilled to have a new distraction to focus his attention on.

Aksel crawled across the tarp, dragging his knit blanket under his knees, on his way to mouth one of the many tools spread across the concrete floor. Will tracked him as he occasionally peered down into the motor, patiently waiting to intervene when the boy’s curiosity would inevitably get the better of him. As little hands pinched and fingered bolts strewn across the tarp, Will gave up and scooped him into his arms. Tinkering was next to impossible now that Aksel was mobile so Will opted to forgo the motor repair and instead play with him in the relative safety of the farm house. 

“You have got to do something about that asshole,” said Layla, barging into the barn. “He’s driving me insane.”

Will snickered at her less than enthusiastic tone. Tonny was driving them all a little crazy. “Yeah, that’s my fault,” he said, wrapping Aksel in his blanket and setting him back on the tarp. “He’s still pissed about me not coming home a couple nights ago.”

“Yeah, I know. He called me–” She pulled out her phone and scrolled through her call log. “Eight times that night. _Eight._ He was panicking like a big damn baby. I told him you were probably fine, but no one ever listens to me.” She crouched down and scooped up Aksel, bouncing him on her hip. “I’m serious, you have to get him to stop bitching about everything. He yelled at me for eating the rest of your chips, which, by the way, you’re out of chips now.”

Will grinned and took Aksel as he motioned her to follow them back up to the house. They ambled up the lawn as Will tried to explain why Tonny had been in such a foul mood for the last week. “I yelled at him a month ago about taking my truck and not telling anyone where he was going. Then I turned around and didn’t even come home after my last appointment in Baltimore so I know why he’s pissed. It was just a really bizarre turn of events. But I probably should have called him; it just slipped my mind … I apologized but – I don’t know – he’s still really shaken up about it for some reason.”

“I don’t think he knows what to do with Aksel when you aren’t here,” she said as they walked. “He was freaking out about what he was supposed to do with him every time he called. Which was _eight_ times in case you didn’t hear me.”

Will chuckled as they neared the porch. “I need to talk to him, I just can’t get him alone. He storms off or we get interrupted by someone.” As he spoke, Aksel reached up and pawed at Will’s glasses, trying to rip them off his face.

“You want me to watch him so you guys can talk?” offered Layla, holding out her arms to take Aksel. “I can’t stand Tonny like this. Seriously. He’s being a dickhead and I hate it.” She wiggled the toddler out of Will’s arms and cuddled him to her chest. “My mom’s off tonight and I know she’d be cool with watching him.”

It wasn’t that Will didn’t want to talk to Tonny, but being alone with him was awkward now. The man was sulking and aggressive and Will wasn’t great at opening up himself. He wanted to know more about him but there were so many walls to climb and so many pitfalls to navigate it almost didn’t seem worth it. “I don’t know; I don’t want to drop him on you like this,” he said, scratching his face, “but I did sort of tell Tonny I’d take him out to eat somewhere.”

Layla squinted and suppressed a grin. “You told him you’d take him out to eat? Like … on a date?”

She was so goddamn nosy. “He helped me out with something so I offered to return the favor … that’s it.”

“Right, okay …,” she said, winking at Will’s disapproving face. “Just take him somewhere. Get him drunk; do whatever. Just _please_ fix him. I’m gonna fucking kill him if you don’t.” 

They both ducked in the house, and Layla grabbed the diaper bag. After Will kissed Aksel on the forehead, she waved her good-bye and the pair headed down the driveway. As they departed, Will was left debating just how he was going to suggest this dinner idea to Tonny without having his head cleanly bitten off. 

“Tonny!” he yelled up the steps. “Can you come down here?”

Tonny bounded down the stairs, practically careening into Will who was still watching Layla and Aksel stroll away. “What?” he snapped, looking through the doorway behind Will. “Why she have Aks?”

“Actually, she very graciously agreed to watch him tonight.”

“What the fuck for?” he huffed, abandoning Will to head to the kitchen. “She ate all the goddamn chips.”

Will snickered and followed him, leaning on the kitchen threshold. “Yeah, she told me. And I was thinking we could go get dinner somewhere tonight.”

Tonny was digging through the refrigerator when he stood up, curiously eyeing Will. “Dinner? Why the fuck would you want to go out? I say you hate eating out.”

“I do, but you’re driving everyone insane with your complaining and bad attitude. No one can stand it anymore so Layla told me to get you drunk. I don’t think _that’s_ a great idea, but for everyone’s sanity, I’ll try anything at this point.” 

Tonny stared at Will, shaking his head. _“I_ have a bad attitude? You bitch all the time about everything. You get mad at me for staying out and then you don’t come home. And you’re acting weird again.”

“I told you we had a late session – that was it. He didn’t think I should drive, so I didn’t.”

“Why could you not drive? What the fuck were you doing? Did you get drunk? What kind of doctor gets you drunk?”

“I wasn’t drunk, Tonny, for fuck’s sake,” huffed Will, hoping his cracking voice didn’t give away too much of what did happen that night. “Do you want to get dinner or not?”

“Yeah I wanna go!” he snapped, slamming the fridge door. “I’m fucking hungry and there’s no goddamn food in this fucking house.”

Will mouth dropped open. “Holy shit, Tonny, really?!” He rushed to the fridge and yanked open the door. “You’re right! Jesus christ! What are we supposed to do with all these _eggs_ and _milk_ and, oh my god, _bread?!_ What the hell could we do with all this not-food!” He rolled his eyes as he slammed the fridge door. “Maybe I should just force you to make dinner for once in your life. That would be something, huh?”

Tonny rubbed his mouth, snickering at Will’s mocking tirade. “Shut the fuck up and let’s just go,” he snapped, suppressing his smile.

By the time Will had changed clothes and the pair were ready to go, Tonny’s mood had been temporarily lifted by the prospect of an evening somewhat alone and out of the confinement of the farm house. He hopped in the truck, lighting a cigarette and slouched down in the seat to enjoy the peace of the silent cab. “Where are we going?” he asked, smiling as he peered over at Will.

“That pub I told you about,” he said, starting the truck. “At least I think I told you about it.” That day at the stream was still somewhat hazy. “It’s an English pub. And I’m glad you’re a little more excited now.” 

“I just need a goddamn break,” said Tonny, closing his eyes and exhaling wisps of smoke. “I need to think … and I can’t do that with Layla around or Aksel all over me.” Will nodded in agreement, feeling the same sense of relief washing over him as they drove towards town.

When they arrived at the pub, they were seated and immediately ordered food and drinks, attempting to absorb as much of this solitude as they could. It didn’t feel as much like a date as Will had feared. It felt more akin to a manager taking his employee out for drinks after work and that made the whole situation much easier for Will to handle. “You seem in better spirits,” he said, noting Tonny’s eagerness to get their food.

“I love fries and I love beer,” he said, rhythmically tapping on the table. 

Will stared at his tapping fingers. “You nervous about something?” 

“No,” he replied, sliding his hands into his lap. “I don’t know what to do. You wanna talk?” 

“I figured we could just attempt a conversation that doesn’t end in bloodshed,” teased Will, raising his eyebrows. “If that’s even possible.”

“It’ll be hard. You make everything a fight.”

“Like hell I do,” snapped Will. “You are antagonistic and take everything way too personally. Like that whole debacle last week. I said I should have called, I apologized, that should be it. I don’t really think I owe you any more of an explanation than that.”

Tonny leaned over the table. “You didn’t come home, Will; what the fuck was I supposed to do? I thought you fell asleep in the truck or were scared of something again. And you didn’t answer the phone.” He hesitated and scratched his neck, hearing himself sound like a nagging wife. Hell, he sounded a lot like Will. “I don’t know what to do with Aks. You always do shit with him before bed. I don’t know what the fuck I’m supposed to do with him. He just cries all night.”

“He’s _your_ son, Tonny; figure it out. And I’m starting to feel uncomfortable with how much I take care of him. You need to start doing more with him.”

“I thought you liked taking care of him?”

“I do, but he’s not my son. You don’t even feed him anymore and when you do it’s junk food or cold milk. You need to take better care of him. He’s not an animal; he a human child and you’re his father.” Will crossed his arms in a huff. “And you know what? _You_ are giving him his baths from now on.”

This was getting absurd and Tonny refused to listen to Will’s nonsense. “You said you didn’t want to fight. What the fuck is this? You bring me here to yell at me again?”

“No, I didn’t, but I needed to say that. He’s your responsibility, Tonny, not mine. You need to step up and stop making everyone else raise your son.”

“Okay, fine. Then _I_ say he doesn’t need a bath tonight, so I’m not giving him one.”

“He was crawling all over the barn, Tonny; he needs a bath.”

“I didn’t take him in the barn, so it’s not my problem.”

“Don’t mistreat your son just to spite me; that’s sick. And grow the fuck up.” 

Tonny’s nostrils flared, his lip curling into a sneer. “Don’t tell me what to do, you fucking psycho. You’re not my father!” Tonny launched himself out of the booth and stormed away. 

He was halfway across the restaurant when Will called to him, “Where are you going?” 

He paused, shoving his hands in his hoodie pocket. “I’m not dealing with your shit,” he snapped over his shoulder, and he wrenched open the door to the parking lot.

Everyone was staring so Will averted his eyes and cleared his throat. This wasn’t going quite as well as he’d planned, though he hadn’t actually planned for _anything_ that night. He’d had no time to prepare himself physically or mentally for a long conversation with anyone. The anger Tonny was engulfed in seemed unjustified and neither of them had anything in common. What would they talk about? There was the issue of the persistent mess overtaking the kitchen. There was the fact that the chicken coup was perpetually surrounded by Will’s tools, rusting in the rain. They could talk about those things but he suddenly grit his teeth, hearing Hannibal’s voice repeating derogatory insults in his mind. _You treat him like your son._

As he sat there, mulling over how nice his silverware would look lodged in Hannibal’s neck, the server appeared with two pints of beer and their plates of food. Finally a distraction. A dark shadow still paced outside the pub window, puffing on a cigarette, so Will decided to eat without him. He’d come back in eventually. He always did. 

As Will was finishing his hastily consumed dinner, Tonny slid back in the booth. “I’m fucking hungry, so I’m going to eat,” he said, shoving french fries in his mouth.

“That’s, fine. Eat. We can talk about something else.”

“I don’t want to talk to you,” he mumbled through a mouthful of food.

“All right; no more fighting. I’m sorry I said anything … just–” Will motioned over Tonny’s plate, encouraging him to finish. This hostility and resentment building between them was not Will’s intent. This dinner was supposed to be an attempt to learn more about each other, but Will stiffen and seethed at every careless comment Tonny made with regard to Aksel. They needed to avoid arguments and debates and instead opt for questions about one another. They knew nothing except the very basics about each other’s pasts, though it all seemed moot considering they’d already slept together.

Tonny scratched his neck, his fingernails biting into his skin. If this was how the evening was going to continue, he had no interest in sticking around. However, he had nowhere to go and didn’t have the truck keys, so he acquiesced to Will’s suggestion and fell back into the seat with his pint, staring blankly at the table between them. 

“Tell me about your first drink,” said Will, sipping his beer. Tonny glared at him, obviously confused by the request, so Will clarified, “Tell me the story of the first time you drank.”

“What like booze?” snapped Tonny.

“Yeah. How old you were – what was it – where were you? That kind of thing. I just want to know.”

“Why?” he asked, narrowing his eyes.

“I’m just trying to talk without fighting,” said Will. “You obviously like drinking so I thought I’d start there.”

Tonny took a deep gulp of his pint and stared into Will’s eyes, his lip still curled. “I was ten or eleven. We were in my mom’s apartment before she threw out all my stuff … I still had a room. I guess I was ten. My friend, Jørgen, and I took my dad’s beer and tried to drink it all. Three each.” 

“Tried?” asked Will, furrowing his brows.

“Yeah.” The ridiculous memory forced him to chuckle despite his animosity. “Jørgen was twelve – something like that – older than me. We tasted it, thought it was really bad and wanted to spit it out, but didn't want to be pussies so we each had one and stopped.” He took a long gulp from his beer and set it down, fingering the condensation on the glass. “Jørgen ended up puking all over the steps when we left. Not drunk, just ... he didn’t like the taste.” Tonny chuckled as the image of his mother’s old apartment complex filled his head – the tall building full of corners to hide, the steps where Jørgen vomited, the buzzer with his father’s name still written across it.

Will winced but snickered at the strange story. “You were only ten?”

He nodded, his eyes glazed and still staring into his pint glass. “I don’t know what happened to Jørgen. Few months after that, he stole some of my shit and I never saw him again.” He scoffed and gulped another mouthful of beer. It had been years since he thought about his childhood.

Will sat in silence, wondering if these introductory questions were going to cause more harm than good. The mood needed lifting and since the pair had nothing in common, Will was grasping for ideas to get them talking.

Tonny scratched his head. “What about you? First beer?”

“I don’t know about beer,” he admitted, scouring his memories, “But I remember my neighbor’s husband back when I lived in Louisiana. He gave me a sip of a whiskey sour once. He was ex-military and I was a young teenager, probably thirteen-, fourteen-years-old. I was at their house a lot.” He huffed and shook his head, leaning back in the booth. “I was a classic latchkey kid and I was not a fan of whiskey. I’m still not, really.”

Tonny hummed as he took note of Will’s admission. “What’s that mean? Latch key?”

“It means I was on my own a lot growing up. I had a key to let myself into my house after school.”

Tonny scratched his chin, still confused. “How else would you get in?” he asked, shaking his head. 

Will’s eyes softened as he stared at Tonny’s baffled face. “Nevermind. It just a stupid term – a hopefully _obsolete_ term.”

Tonny nodded, accepting Will’s unhelpful explanation as he was completely disinterested in an English lesson. “Okay, so tell me about the first time you smoked weed,” he said. Will had to have a funny story involving weed; everyone did.

Will took a sip of his beer and smiled. “Never had the pleasure.”

“Really?” asked Tonny, his eyes widening. How was that even possible? “Shit, Will, we’re gonna have to fix that,” he said with a grin.

“Uh, no. There’s nothing to fix. And I teach agents, Tonny. The FBI isn’t about to start tolerating drug use.” Will cocked his head as he repeated those words in his mind. How long did psilocybin remain detectable in one’s body? He shook his head, dismissing the concern. It had been almost a week since his session with Hannibal and the FBI instructors hadn’t been drug tested in years. He was probably fine. “What about you? I’m sure you’re well versed with pot.” He winced as he took another sip.

Tonny was unfazed by the comment as he thought about the question. “Me and Ø and two other guys parked in this empty lot behind Ø’s old apartment. We were in my friend's car and Ø just passes it back to me. And I’m a dumbass and smoke it like a cigarette and fuck that was a bad idea.” He cringed and snickered to himself. “But one of my friends thinks it would be funny to run back and forth between these two trees in this park across the street.” Tonny smiled at the memory. “By the third run, he starts to throw up all over the place. Ø just laughed his fucking ass off the whole time until he went and got him and brought him back to the car. I didn’t get out; fuck that shit. I could barely fucking see. After half hour of us doing that shit ... we just go back to Ø’s and pass out on the floor of his room,” said Tonny, chuckling. “I never really did much after that. But I really wasn’t into weed,” he confessed, sipping his beer.

Will was chuckling as he stared at Tonny’s smile. “I’m seeing a trend of vomiting in these stories.”

“We were drinking while we were smoking, so ...”

Will nodded as he watched Tonny snicker to himself. “So are these ... fond memories for you?” he asked. “Like, do you regret any of it?”

He shook his head. “No, I don’t regret anything. It’s weird to think about though. That all feels like a long long time ago. But some other stuff from that time feels like it just happened; I can remember it really good, you know?”

“Why’s that do you think?” asked Will.

Tonny tapped the right side of his head over his ear. “Got hit here,” he said. “Some things are clear. Others aren’t. I think really hard on some things to keep them in my head and then I can just see them all the time.”

“What do you mean you _got hit?”_ asked Will, setting down his glass to listen.

Tonny rubbed the top of his head. “I had a friend. He said I went to the police about a bad deal he made. When the police let him go, he came to me fucking pissed. Took a bat to my head and cracked my skull. There was so much blood – fuck – so much blood.” Will swallowed back an acrid metallic taste as his stomach churned, listening to Tonny speak of his assault. “I woke up in the hospital covered in the, uh, black lines–” 

“S-Stitches, sutures,” interjected Will, his face still fraught with distress.

“Yeah, here.” Tonny moved his open hand over the right side of his head, emphasizing the scope of his injuries. His eyes had glassed over as he stared through Will, engulfed in the memory of a time when he had never been more alone.

Will shook his head. “That sounds horrible.”

“It was not good, no,” he confessed, sipping his beer. “But, it was a friend of Frankie that got me here, so, not all bad I guess,” he said, finishing the last of his drink.

“Frankie ...” Will mumbled, mulling that name in his mouth and his head.

“Yeah,” sighed Tonny. “Like the dog. That’s not the most weird though. They called my father ‘the Duke.’”

“You’re kidding ...” Will scoffed and Tonny shook his head. “Well, the overkill makes more sense now,” he said, remembering the day of the dog attack. Tonny cocked his head, slightly alarmed by what Will might be implying. “I mean, you told me before that you didn’t get along with your father. So it makes sense that you might have – I don’t know – seen that whole situation as an outlet to vent frustration. I wondered why you looked at me so weird right before you passed out. I just thought it was the blood loss.”

Tonny said nothing, returning his attention to his finger tracing up and down the empty beer glass. They now sat in silence, Tonny trying to forget his last night in Denmark and Will mentally reconstructing Copenhagen in the late-1990s. Neither was envisioning a comfortable place, so Tonny cleared his throat and tried to lighten the suddenly sullen mood. “What about you? Your first … kiss?” he asked, grinning like a fool. “What was little Will like? I bet he got tons of pussy.” 

Will cringed and averted his eyes as he nervously chuckled. “Well, uh, ... I was fourteen. I kissed this girl at her house when we were alone. Her parents had gone somewhere and I wasn't supposed to be there, naturally. Anyway, I left shortly after but I had to cut through her backyard to get home. While I was still in her yard I saw her turn up her stereo and start dancing all over the place. I watch her for a few minutes, not like in a creepy stalker way, but kind of laughing and in awe. I then get this bright idea to knock on the window and wave at her.” He laughed as he recalled his own youthful ineptitude. "She was so embarrassed that I never got a second kiss from her. She was beautiful too, and I fucked that up royally,” he chuckled with a sigh.

Tonny wrinkled his nose but still managed to laugh. “Poor Will,” he said, “Were you as strange then as you are now?”

“Hey now,” interjected Will, still smiling. “And no. I was far more _strange_ as a kid than I am now.” 

“Not possible,” joked Tonny as he peered over his beer glass at Will’s glaring eyes. 

“Ok, asshole, you’re up. When did you lose your virginity?” snapped Will, looking for fodder to mock. Tonny had to have a myriad of embarrassing stories to share.

Tiny smirked at Will’s sudden overconfidence. “With a boy or a girl?”

“Oh, jesus. Um, girl?”

“I was thirteen, she was fifteen I think. I had just started doing coke and she was the little sister of my dealer.” Will hissed at that thought. “Yes,” nodded Tonny with a chuckle. “You can imagine how it ended.”

“Badly,” quipped Will, and Tonny nodded in agreement. “Were you just perpetually high the entire time you were a kid?”

Tonny inhaled, mildly insulted, “No. But have you ever done shit like that? Ever not be able to stop doing something? You can’t. And you have asked me about weed, beer, and sex. Of course I was high when I did all that.” They both sat in silence once more before curiosity got the best of him. “What about you?” asked Tonny.

“My virginity?” Will felt his cheeks flush so he scratched at the growing stubble across his chin. “I guess I lost that during my junior year in college. I was twenty-two.”

Tonny’s mouth dropped open. “Twenty-two! Are you serious?” 

“Not everyone explores their sexuality as a sixth-grader, Tonny,” he scoffed, “and as we have established, I was rather awkward as a kid. But twenty-two isn’t anything to laugh at, so shut up,” he demanded before continuing. “I was hanging out with a girl from one of my lit courses. All I can really remember is that _Late Night with Conan O'Brian_ was playing at a ridiculous volume on the TV in her dorm. It was insanely distracting. I’m certain she was expecting something that I know for a fact I didn’t deliver. Neither of us came actually, and then I left. The remainder of the semester was so awkward that I stopped going to that class entirely. I took the final though and ended up with a B, so I guess that’s something. But the real tragedy is that it took two years before I could watch _Conan_ again without having an anxiety attack.”

Tonny was laughing with his hands over his face. “Oh fuck, Will!” he said between breaths. “That is … fucking sad,” he admitted. Will smiled and stared at him, reveling in the fact that Tonny was deriving so much joy from such a tragically stupid story.

“Ok, hot shit, your first time with a guy then,” barked Will, still grinning.

Tonny nodded to the waitress as she dropped two fresh glasses of beer on the table. Glass of beer and jovial banter was exactly what Tonny had been craving. “I was sixteen. I know that because my father bought me a stripper for my birthday and this all happened later that night.” Will bit his lip and smiled, attempting to ready himself for whatever story he about to be hit with. “Don't get ahead of me,” demanded Tonny, and Will chuckled. “I had known Lucas for some years. He had always flirted with me. You know, touching, sharing his drugs with me, messing with my hair …”

Will interrupted, “I like how _sharing his drugs_ is a valid form of flirting to you.”

Tonny scoffed, though he saw his point. “Well, it is. Coke’s not free, and neither is dope, so if someone is going to share because they like to look at your ass, then good. Free drugs.” He grinned and Will conceded before he continuing. “So after the birthday thing – and the stripper was the only gift my father ever gave me, so don't go thinking he was some wonderful father to me ...”

“I wouldn’t have thought that even if you hadn’t said anything,” said Will. “Who buys their sixteen-year-old son a stripper for their birthday?”

“I’d get one for Aks if he wants one,” said Tonny, wiping his mouth on his hoodie. He ignored Will’s grimacing face and he continued, “So, it was probably one in the morning and Lucas had picked me up to go ... somewhere. He pulled into the parking lot of an apartment building, ran in, and came back with dope and condoms. This is actually my first dope story too, I forgot about that. So he tells me to get in the back of the car, which I do, but when he gets in he has no shirt on. I freak out, but he shows me the dope and we get high. The rest I had to piece together from Lucas the next day and from what I do remember, but I know I sucked his cock because I remember that part. I know he didn’t come. I didn’t either. That’s hard to do on dope – don’t know if you knew that. I’m not even sure how into it I was. It felt really weird.” Tonny gulped his second beer and dropped his glass back to the table.

His candor had Will staring at him in an unsettling way. “How old was Lucas?”

“Twenty-one,” he answered.

These were the times where Will cursed the world. There was so much cruelty, trickery, depravity ... These were the stories he knew Tonny was going to share, but he’d had some hope. He had a shred of hope that maybe his inclinations were wrong. He wanted to imagine Tonny as just an impressionable, outspoken, possibly lost man. He had vices, sure, but this level of vulnerability mirrored his own and it was frightening. He didn’t want to see Tonny as a product of the barbarism of man so he pushed it aside in an attempt to not empathize with him and at least save one of them from the pain. How could he possibly support him if he was also in that much pain. “That’s ... quite a story. Did your relationship with him continue or was that it?”

“What? Me and Lucas? Yeah, for a few years, until I went to prison the first time. I wouldn’t call it a relationship though. We fucked around but it’s not like we were together. He had a girlfriend.”

“Ah. Well that would complicate things,” muttered Will, losing eye contact and now quite uncomfortable.

“Does that story bother you?” asked Tonny, attempting to look into Will’s averted eyes.

“Yeah,” he admitted casually, “Just a lot of unfortunate things going on. Trying to process it without getting overwhelmed.”

“It is not as bad as it sounds. At least, I don't think so. It didn't feel that bad at the time, just a little weird,“ he said chewing his lip.

“That’s unfortunately not as reassuring as I’m sure you mean it to be,” said Will. He looked up and flagged down the server for the check.

“What about you? First time with a guy?” smirked Tonny.

“He was a total asshole,” Will immediately declared, “Smoked all the time and drank. Unfortunately, I still have to see him every day because I work with him. There’s a tip for you: don’t sleep with your employees. It only causes trouble.”

“There is still a knife on the table, Will. You may want to watch what you say,” said Tonny, smiling.

“Yeah well, ok … He was also very attractive and funny, but still …” he paused, grinning, “kind of a dick.” 

“If you think I won't beat your ass right here, think again,” threatened Tonny and he leaned over the table. Will cracked a smile at his sudden playfulness. Tonny cleared his throat and nervously looked around, mulling his next idea over and over in his mind. He debated and strummed his fingers on the table until Will was forced to say something.

“What’s up with you?” he asked, pointing at Tonny’s fidgeting hand.

“I have an idea, but I feel like you are going to freak out if I say it.”

Will narrowed his eyes. “What is it? I swear I won’t freak out,” he promised, raising his hands.

Tonny knew he was lying, but he decided to say it anyway. “I, uh, want you to do something with me.”

That was an oddly unspecific request. Will raised his eyebrows and looked around the room to see if anyone had heard him. “And, what is that supposed to mean?” he whispered.

Tonny bit his lip and leaned towards Will. “Come take a piss with me,” he said, nodding towards the bathroom. He slid out of his seat and stood at the end of the table, waiting so see what Will would decide. After laying down a couple twenties and downing the last of his beer, Will nervously stood up and followed Tonny down the long hall to the bathroom.

Once inside, Tonny opened a toilet stall and Will followed, closing the door behind him. “What’s this about, Tonny?” he asked, his anxiety bubbling up in his voice.

Tonny yanked him forward and kissed him on the neck as he reached into Will’s back pocket, lifting out his wallet. 

“What the hell are you doing?” asked Will, furrowing his eyebrows. 

As far as Tonny was concerned, it was best to just continue, rather than fumble over words and explanations, He pulled out a credit card and a dollar and slid the wallet in his own back pocket. He palmed his new phone and stared at Will’s puzzled face. This was the moment of truth. He carefully fished a baggie of cocaine from his jeans and untied the top.

Will’s curious smile suddenly vanished as he watched. “Where the hell did you get that?” he snapped.

“It's not that bad, Will. It's just a little coke. And it doesn't matter where I got it.” Maybe this was a mistake. But it was too late now.

“Are you out of your fucking mind?” sneered Will.

“Will, just do a line with me,” he begged. “Just one. Just a little, ok? Try it. The first time is the best.”

“Are you out of your fucking mind!?” he repeated with emphasis. This was insane.

“You said you would not freak out.”

“Well, I thought you wanted to …” Will trailing off before deciding not to continue at all. He was a little embarrassed about what he had assumed they were about to do in an empty public bathroom.

“Yeah, Will, I know what you thought,” snickered Tonny. “Do some coke with me, and we can.” He teetered the phone on the back of the toilet, carefully chopping and cutting the powder into two lines. He rolled the bill and inhaled a line before looking back up at Will’s appalled face.

“You know what they cut that shit with?” he asked. “You're a fucking lunatic!”

“This shit is better than what I was using back home,” he snapped, rubbing his nose. “Ok, I will do this–” He thinned the line with the credit card. “First time. Not as much. You just feel happy, like you can do anything. Just be happy, Will,” he said. “You’ve never even had weed before. Shit, no one should live like that.”   

“Fuck!” groaned Will as Tonny slammed him against the bathroom wall. “Jesus, fuck off! Are you trying to fucking eat me?!” he laughed. Teeth gnawed against his neck and he was pinned against the cold metal wall, running his hand through Tonny’s hair. A nervous delight was surging through him and he fought with the rational voice that continued to berate him as he fumbled with the zipper of Tonny’s pants. There was no time for rational thoughts here. His head wasn’t throbbing with pain and he felt more alive in this moment than he had in years. He wrenched Tonny’s pants open and dropped to his knees. This was insane; it was the behavior of an irresponsible delinquent – hiding in bathrooms, doing cocaine off a phone, and sucking someone’s cock – not the conduct of a responsible FBI instructor. What the hell was he doing? It took only a gentle tug from Tonny urging him to continue for Will to suddenly feel unbothered by his new-found exhilarating freedom. This was exactly what he wanted to do. He needed to make Tonny feel happy.

There was no sight more arousing than to see Will kneeling in front of him, tugging at his pants. Maybe watching Will reluctantly do a line was slightly more exciting to Tonny, but it wasn’t by much. This new, carefree Will was intoxicating and these circumstances – brought on by hastily taken drugs in a public bathroom – was just the reckless frivolity Tonny had been craving. He pulled Will’s head against him as he panted, his eyes sick with an incorrigible satisfaction. 

Will scratched his hand down Tonny’s lower back as he attempted to take him in his mouth in a way more graceful than he was managing. Though he was not as well versed, it wasn’t rocket science, and Will’s sudden overwhelming confidence made him invincible to both criticism and shame. 

Tonny stumbled back to lean against the wall of the bathroom stall, releasing a stifled groan before snickering at the turn of events. He had half-expected a swift punch to the face for not only acquiring cocaine but bringing it into Will’s home. But living with a man as unpredictable as Will seemed to have a few benefits. He had annoying habits and a seemingly endless need for reassurance, but if you caught him at just the right time, you could convince him to do anything. He was malleable like that, a trait Tonny was excited to explore. “Oh shit,” he mumbled, jerking back and trying not to fall. "Fuck! Ow! Teeth, Will!" he laughed, pushing him away.

Will snickered under his breath and pulled off, unfazed by Tonny’s discomfort. He’d get over it. It wasn’t Will’s fault that he was learning how to blow someone right here, high and in a filthy goddamn bathroom. Fuck him. He drunkenly groped the front of Tonny, listening to the breathy huffs above him. He finally stood up and grasped the back of Tonny’s head, forcing his bitter tongue into the man's mouth. They both tumbled backward into the stall door, crashing through it and falling to the cold, hard floor. 

Tonny hit the ground on his back, Will dropping on top of him. The ridiculousness of this situation was not lost on either of them, but while Tonny deliriously laughed, Will ignored it all. There was something alluring about not caring anymore. There was something exciting about feeling powerful and in control. He wasn’t worried about how hard Tonny’s head hit the floor. He didn’t feel it in his own skull. He was suddenly unbothered by Tonny’s reckless behavior. His worries were gone and he felt like a king. He took this newly discovered power and bit Tonny’s neck.

“Ow, Will, jesus!” he snapped through laughter. “Easy, you fucker.”

Will drew away, still grinning and looked up at the bathroom door. “We better get up,” he said between bites to Tonny’s chin and cheek.

“Ya think so?” chuckled Tonny as he attempted to stand despite Will’s unceasing assault. When he couldn’t fight through Will’s deadweight or his lust-filled aggression, he finally relented and fell back to the floor. “You better fucking suck me now,” he nervously laughed, glancing at the door again.

“I’m getting there,” he said, grinning at Tonny’s obvious anxiety. He briefly wondered if that’s how he looked all the time – sweaty, shaking, and constantly glancing at doors and windows. He slid down Tonny’s body until he met with his intention and he braced his hands against the bathroom floor.

“Oh fuck …” sighed Tonny, breathing against his chest as he leered down at Will’s head. The floor was wet and cold and there was nothing to grab ahold of. The back of his head throbbed from being slammed against the tile. He tried not to focus on the pain so he pawed at Will’s shirt, pulling him closer to his body. 

Their drunken laughs and moans echoed through the empty bathroom. There was a certain absurdity to knowing Will was trying to give his first blowjob while his mind raced with cocaine. They were both too drunk to feel the anxiety of the situation and too high to care if they did. After several minutes of hastily groping each other in the hopes of coming, the door to the bathroom finally swung open. The middle-aged man stopped, aghast as he stared at the two of them, half-naked and attacking each other on the bathroom floor. He back out of the room leaving the pair to continued their assault upon each other. Sucking and thrusting turned to biting and coming, and after several more minutes the two were exhausted and laying in a breathless pile.

“We probably should have gone home for that,” said Tonny, attempting to catch his breath.

“No time,” said Will as laughter bubbled up from his chest.

Tonny chucked at Will’s levity and tucked himself back in his pants. “That fuckin’ asshole’s goingsend someone in here.” 

“I know,” said Will, “but the food here isn’t that good so if they tell us not to come back, it’s no big loss.” 

Tonny gripped his chest as he laughed. “You’re fuckin crazy,” he said as he attempted to stand.

Will crouched to his knees and was helping Tonny to his feet as the middle-aged man and a server opened the bathroom door and peered in.

“Sorry,” said Will to the doorway, collected and serious, “He fell and I was helping him up. Someone should mop up these goddamn floors. It’s fucking dangerous.” 

He hoisted Tonny to his feet and the pair, restraining their amusement, hastily ducked out of the bathroom laughing like teenagers.

They had made their way out of the pub when Tonny finally felt composed enough to speak, “Fuck, Will, I didn’t think you had the balls to do something like that,” he laughed, elbowing Will as the headed out into the darkened parking lot.

“I’ve been a law-abiding, tax-paying citizen my whole life. Allow me these meager indulgences.”

Tonny’s eyes widened. “A couple lines of coke and my cock is a _meager indulgence_ now? I’m insulted, you fuck,” he quipped.

Will laughed and clapped Tonny on the back, still high on his own fearlessness, and they both hopped back into the truck.

* * *

 

“I think I’m invincible,” declared Will, soberly looking out the windshield at the headlights casting a warm yellow spotlight on the asphalt.

“That’ll be the coke talking,” snickered Tonny, lighting a cigarette. "Shit, I shoulda brought more. Didn’t think you’d be so cool with this.” He fished out the cocaine and turned on the dome light, inspecting the remnants in the corner of the bag. He pulled out his phone and looked at the road ahead of them. There were too many potholes to do lines while driving so he carefully poured a mound on the back of his hand, peeking over at Will to see his inky-black eyes staring back at him. 

Will drove another half-mile before parking the truck on a long bridge spanning the Potomac River. “Thank you. Finally," snickered Tonny as the truck lurched to a stop. He exhaled and snorted the last bump off his hand. 

A door handle creaked and Will suddenly slid out of the cab. Tonny watched him walk around the front of the truck, heading towards the edge of the bridge. Where was he going? Tonny leaned out his window and hollered, “What are you doing, you stupid fuck?” There was no reply. There wasn’t even an acknowledgment. 

Will gently leaned on the chainlink fence that spanned the length of the concrete bridge wall, breathing in the cold breeze that hit him in the face. He gazed down at the choppy water washing and dancing over thousands of protruding rocks. The white rapids were lit up by the moon making the ground appear to glow and pulse beneath him, alive and churning.

Tonny dropped out of the truck and stood by the door. “Will?” he called, staring at the man gripping the fence as though he’d be dragged away if he let go. “Will … ?” he repeated. How was he supposed to proceed? A cold rain began to fall and Tonny shivered as he looked up into the ever-darkening sky. Why was he not answering? What was he doing?

Will finally released the fence and stumbled along the bridge walkway, mesmerized by the water flowing under him. His hand ran along the concrete wall, brushing off pebbles and fingering the cracks along the surface. He was entranced by the bridge, the water, and the night that encompassed them both like a heavy, velvet blanket. His movements were graceless but intentional and Tonny followed him, all the way to the far end of the bridge.

An uneasiness filled Tonny’s chest and as it combined with the nervous excitement of his last high, anausea was overtaking him. “Will, we need to go. It’s raining.” Will seemed unfazed by the freezing rain. He was unresponsive and although Tonny’s mind had begun to sober since they had left the pub, his heart was still racing with a new flood of adrenaline.

Will climbed over the unfenced end of the bridge and hopped down onto the wet, rocky hill on the other side. His hair was now soaked and it stuck to his forehead and cheeks like black flames lapping at the sides of his face. The rain fell in sheets and drowned out the noise of passing cars behind them. It was like a bad dream that was only going to get worse.

Tonny hesitantly followed Will over the wall. Something terrible was happening and it was beyond the scope of what he was capable of handling. Maybe the cocaine had Will confused or paranoid, whatever it was, it wasn’t ending.

Will’s head rolled over his shoulder as he looked behind him. “You know, we don’t have to kill people.”

Tonny stopped and he held up his hands, an instinctive non-threatening gesture. What the hell was he talking about? Where did he think he was? The edge of the water was so close and the violent flood rushing down the river was loud and terrifying. One slip on the wet jagged rocks could send either of them to their death.

Tonny had to get Will home, but how could he convince him? Was he sick? What he still high? This was nothing even remotely close to anything Tonny was familiar with. “What did you say?” he asked, hoping the rain had muddled Will’s words.

“I said we don’t have to kill people!” he snapped before grinding his teeth.

Tonny swallowed back the bile gathering in his throat. “No, Will. No, we don’t,” he stated clearly. He racked his brain in an attempt to figure out what either of them was talking about. Will knew nothing of Tonny’s violence back in Denmark. Even if he did, this is not the way he’d discuss it, in the rain by a raging river in the middle of the night.

“They just kill themselves,” said Will. “Every day they do. No help from us.” He chuckled as he looked up into the pouring rain. “Plenty of people. Plenty of time. Plenty of meat.” His eyes fell back to earth as he ambled up the small incline until he could look down the turbulent river. “And you can’t just arbitrarily insist that this is the good and this is the bad, so how do you know?” His chuckle was that of a madman. Tonny slowly approached him, straining to hear his words over the storm. “The Ripper knows,” said Will, tapping his temple and half-turning to Tonny. “He knows the good from the bad. He know who’s made of bad meat.”

Despite Tonny’s attempts to yell over the deluge, he couldn’t raise his shaking voice above a whisper. “Will …” he said, cautiously stepping forward. “Will, please stop …” 

Will turned to him and scoffed. “Why would we stop? Why would you try to stop me?” he hissed, clumsily pivoting in the mud to face Tonny. “Are you trying to stop me?” he growled. 

Tonny stumbled back, slipping in the mud behind him. He fell backward, catching himself on the jagged rocks jutting from the ground which ripped open his palms. “No, Will. I won’t stop you,” he said through his trembling voice. He held up his muddy, blood-covered hands when Will inched closer.

“You're pathetic, you sick fuck,” he said towered over him, shaking his head. Will disregarded the bloody, soaked mess with a dismissive wave and turned back to the torrent of water ripping its way beneath the bridge. 

Tonny wiped his black hands down his chest, the blood spreading across his shirt with the water pouring over his head. He stood up and deeply inhaled, gathering whatever nerve he could muster. Was this a breakdown? Was it a panic attack? Will wasn’t terrified. He wasn’t running away. The black voids where his eyes should have been were lifeless and soulless. Something was horrifyingly wrong with Will, and he refused to leave him here, cold and alone and stuck in this darkness. It was like a manifestation of the nightmares Will had suffered from since the day they'd met. Tonny slowly approached Will once again, apprehensively wondering how close he should get. He reached up and gently touched his shoulder, leaving a muddy blood streak that streamed down Will’s shirt in the rain. 

Will twisted around and shoved Tonny away, dropping him back to the craggy earth. Tonny’s heaving breath ripped from his lungs as his hit the ground, writhing on the rocks, attempting to breathe. Will shook his head as he lorded over the filthy, bloody man gasping for breath. “Don’t fucking touch me,” he demanded. He scoffed, returning to the edge of the river to gaze upstream. As he focused on the water, his face twitched and twisted in pain as though his skull was shattering, crushing in upon itself.

Back on his lumbering feet, Tonny leaned around to look at Will’s grimacing face. The man’s eyes were clenched shut as though he was fighting back an inner demon. Moments later he was inhaling and blinking again, seemingly unaware of the pain he’d just dampened. 

“It’s all so, Shakespearean,” he mumbled over his shoulder. “The wrath, the honor, the vengeance.” He spat a mouthful of rainwater over the edge of the muddy embankment, peering into the black obscurity of the river. “The madness is real to Titus,” he laughed and he turned back to Tonny who stood motionless at his side. “I’m going to kill you one day,” he said, “I’m not going to let you go. You don’t get to be free.”

Tonny’s heart clenched and shuddered in his chest. No one knew about his father or his crimes. No one knew why he’d fled Denmark, bloody and clutching his son. He was hiding in the warmth and security of Will’s hidden sanctuary, but now it was crumbling around him. “Will ... please let’s go home,” he pleaded, straining his voice to appear calm. “Home, Will. Just come with me. Please,” he begged, reaching out and grasping Will’s arm. He tugged him towards his body. “You don’t mean this. Let’s go home.”

Will exhaled sharply, his breath stuttering, and he stumbled forward, slipping in the mud. Tonny caught him and locked his arms around him. The rain enveloped them and they stood, hearts racing, at the side of the river, the din of the rain drowning out the world around them. This wasn’t a bad dream. This was the madness. Tonny tightened his hold on Will, his arms restraining him against his body.It wasn’t Will overthinking again or obsessing over minute transgressions. Tonny gripped Will’s soaked hair and pulled him against the side of his face, feeling a faint and sporadic breath on his neck. This was the mental instability to which Will kept referring. This was the vulnerability Will was protecting at such great costs.


	27. Seem to Weep with Me

Tonny rolled onto his side in Will's bed, still panting as he quickly pulled the blankets all the way to his neck. There was no need to alarm Will with his fresh new pain, so he tried to control his hisses as the sheet brushed over his bloody skin. He slowly traced his fingertips along his stomach and up his chest in an attempt to draw sensation away from his throbbing neck and shoulders. If he just pretended to be asleep they wouldn’t have to talk, and he wouldn’t have to face this all again.

“Hey,” alerted Will and Tonny felt his pack of cigarettes land in front of him on the bed. He heard the flick of his lighter behind him as Will lit his own cigarette before tossing the lighter as well. When or why Will had started smoking, he had no idea. Sometime in the last month, this abhorrent act had become Will’s new hobby. It was one of many small and very strange changes he had witnessed. Will wasn’t eating normally, he was drinking more, he was antagonistic, and seemed far more irrational than normal. Tonny suddenly felt Will shift his weight on the bed behind him.

“What’s the matter with you?” he asked, and Tonny listened to him taking long drags off the smoke before leaning over to him. Will nudged his shoulder with his lips. “What is it?” he asked again.

“That was just, weird,” admitted Tonny.

Will scoffed and leaned back to his side of the bed. “Do you always say that right after you fuck? Because it’s kind of rude,” he hissed. 

“I thought we weren't fucking,” snapped Tonny, fingering the pack of cigarettes in front of him.

“Semantics,” joked Will. He obviously had not remembered his own declaration of what constitutes fucking or relationships. Tonny turned to glare at him, confused by his reply. Will narrowed his eyes and continued, “But _weird_? What’s that supposed to mean?”

Tonny paused, his mind racing through all his possible answers. He had spent so much time trying to forget the night on the bridge and yet the worry had somehow doubled — no, tripled in size — until it had taken over his mind completely. He would argue with himself, hoping to stave it off, attempting to convince himself that there was nothing wrong with Will. They were still laughing together, still sharing stories of their past, still touching each other every morning, but then something inevitably happened that sent Tonny’s mind spiraling back to that other unpredictable Will, the dark Will from the bridge that scared the shit out of him. This was another one of those times, but it was not just a passing comment or a strange look. This was real and it was physically painful. “It was just kind of, I don’t know, rough,” he admitted.

“Rough?” said Will, furrowing his eyebrows. “When did you get so sensitive?”

“I don’t want to talk about it. Just sleep,” he insisted. “Please.”

“No, wait, what the fuck is up with you? You’ve been moping for weeks. What the hell’s wrong with you?”

Tonny could feel Will’s eyes burning into the back of his head. “Please, Will, I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Is this seriously happening right now?” he scoffed, looking around, befuddled. “I thought you wanted to fuck around. Sorry, jesus. Why didn’t you say no?”

Though only barely grazing his neck and shoulder, the sheet was sending sharp, burning aches across Tonny’s skin. He fidgeted and shifted his upper body in an attempt to relieve the pain but couldn’t hold back the hiss that escaped his lips as he moved.

“What the hell happened?” asked Will, pulling the sheet from Tonny’s hands. He gasped as he inspected the bloody gouges and red bites peppering Tonny’s neck and shoulder. “What the fuck is this!?” he exclaimed, recoiling at the sight.

“Calm down, Will, for fuck’s sake!” ordered Tonny. What triggered blackouts was still a mystery and Tonny couldn’t afford to tempt fate by starting a fight or upsetting him. He had to stay calm for both their sakes.

“When the fuck did I–” Will suddenly stopped when he realized that he hadn’t asked _what_ , or _who_ , or _why_ this had happened to Tonny … but _when_ … did _he_ do this. Will vaguely remembered clawing and biting at warm flesh, pawing and pulling at hair and skin, kissing and tasting lips and cheeks, but he didn’t remember blood. They had been having sex only thirty minutes ago. He didn’t remember losing any time.

“I just wasn’t expecting it, ok? Don’t get upset,” pleaded Tonny.

Was Will not privy to some major change to the rules of common decency? He scoffed at Tonny’s request. “What the fuck, Tonny? You weren’t _expecting_ it? That’s what you say to this? Not, _‘Holy shit Will, you fucking attacked me like a goddamn dog?’_ Why didn’t you stop me?!” he yelled, still staring at the bites in disgust. “I didn’t even know I was biting that hard! Why didn’t you say it fucking hurt?!”

Tonny remained silent, staring at Will’s flaring nostrils and panic-stricken eyes. The answer was obvious. He was terrified of Will. Terrified of him, but also scared for him, and he didn’t understand how to explain that. It had been over two weeks since the bridge and Tonny felt incredibly uncomfortable trying to explain what happened. He was even more embarrassed that the alcohol and drugs, combined with his damaged short term memory, made the whole situation wildly surreal and he was afraid he may possibly be overreacting. But now, covered in bloody bites and scratches that Will didn’t even remember giving him just moments ago, he felt more than ever before that his suspicions were genuine. Something was vastly, exceedingly, monumentally wrong with Will and he was beginning to fear for his safety. “I don’t know,” he claimed, still averting his eyes from Will’s somewhat deranged look.

“You don’t know?!” Will said incredulously. “You don’t know why you didn’t tell someone to stop hurting you? Are you insane?” He paused, shaking his head at the absurdity. “That is fucking it. We are done. This huge fucking mistake has gotten recklessly out of control. God damn it, Tonny,” he declared, standing up from the bed.

Tonny picked up his shirt from the floor to cover his wounds and huffed under his breath, “Fuck you, Will.” The scolding, the patronizing tone, the insults – all of that Tonny was willing to accept, but threatening to take away the comfort he was still gaining from their connection was too much. He knew their relationship was injured, broken even, but he would not call it a mistake or reckless. He cared too much for Will for that to be the case. But Will – he obviously didn’t feel the same. “You need fucking help, you goddamn psycho,” he mumbled, feeling belittled, pathetic, and weak.

“I need fucking help? I do _?_ And you don’t, with your goddamn–” Will sighed and paused. He had nothing. He had lost all motivation to continue fighting when he saw how devastated and miserable Tonny looked when he mentioned their relationship being finished. Will’s resolve vanished and he sat back down on the bed next to Tonny. _I can’t believe I’m yelling at him,_ he thought. He stopped and took a breath to calm himself and his voice. “This is wrong, Tonny. What I’m saying to you. It’s wrong, ok, and you’re right. I need help. You haven’t done anything wrong and I shouldn’t have called you insane. Fuck, I’m the batshit crazy one.” Tonny was still turned away from him, tense and almost breathless. He’d been backed into a corner. “I’m so sorry, Tonny,” he said, withdrawing his hand from touching him. He signed and cradled his face in his hands. "How many fucking times am I going to do this to you?” he huffed, rubbing his eyes with his palms.

“Do what?” asked Tonny, his voice barely a whisper. He slowly craned to look at Will’s exasperated face.

“Hurt you,” he sighed and dropped his hands, turning to look at the bloodied, sorrowful man still lying in his bed. “Tonny, I don’t want to hurt you. I will never _want_ to hurt you. That is literally all I do to people. I hurt them and I have no idea why.”

Tonny sat up and perched on the edge of the bed next to Will, staring at the floor. “Why do you blackout, Will?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted, shaking his head. He wrinkled his forehead. “When have I–” He trailed off as his voice caught in his throat.

“I, uh, think the first time was right after we fucked – the day of your trip,” said Tonny, trying to stay calm.

That wasn’t possible. Will remembered the trip. He remembered that day. He remembered the vodka and the fight. “I blacked out then?” he asked, unconvinced that Tonny was right.

“Not during, but after. I came back to your room so we could talk and you were sitting there, staring at nothing. I tried to talk to you. You looked at me like you saw me but you weren’t there. I thought maybe you were drunk,” said Tonny, lighting a cigarette to hopefully calm his nerves. Will stared at him in awe as he continued, “So I lay you down. You started to say things, like mumble. It didn’t make sense to me, so I stayed with you until you fall asleep and I turn off the light and went to my room.”

Will remembered the time jump that night. He had been thinking about Tonny and four hours later, he woke up, confused and tucked in his own bed. “You said the first time? When else did it happen?”

Tonny sighed. “The, uh, night of the pub,” he confessed.

Will looked at him oddly, “No. I remember that day. All of it.”

“But the ride home …” said Tonny. He could feel himself slip into a coldness as he remembered them both rain-soaked and heavy, clumsily stumbling back to the truck. It had felt like a very cruel dream, a nightmare he couldn’t escape. His thoughts had flopped between imagining Will committing suicide off that bridge and watching the man’s mind be shredded from the inside out as he threatened to take his life. He had never watched someone break down like that, not someone who seemed relatively normal. He wondered if he had been the cause of it. If somehow it was his presence or the alcohol or the cocaine. _What a stupid fucking idea,_ he thought. He had watched people hallucinate before but that was ... different. It was grotesque and surreal.

“You have to tell me what happened,” probed Will.

Tonny took another long drag off his smoke. “You drove us to a bridge and stopped, got out, and walked away. You started saying a bunch of fucked up shit and pushed me onto the rocks,” he explained. “It was raining. You finally came out of it and I got you back to the truck.”

Will’s face fell slack as he listened. “I _pushed_ you ... onto rocks?” he repeated slowly. Tonny held up his hands to show Will the healing gashes on his palms and knuckles. Will shook his head, disgusted. He’d assumed those were from farm work. “I don’t even know what to say, Tonny. I just don’t fucking know what the hell is going on.” He whimpered and held his face in his hands.

Tonny looked at Will rocking with his head in his hands. The relief he felt at finally telling Will what happened was short lived, as the regret and guilt of causing Will pain flooded through him. He reached over and took Will in his arms as the man sobbed onto his shoulder. Tonny winced at his own pain but held Will as he broke down in his embrace.

There was no stopping the flood of overwhelming disgrace that poured from Will. He was lost at sea with no compass to guide him or hope to cling to. He was hurting the people he cared about and he was losing his morality. He was risking his career and his reputation by indulging in drug use. His code of ethics had been shattered. He was becoming an abusive criminal. Once he crossed that line between decency and immorality, how would he find himself again? What could he become when his only companions were morally ambiguous at best? All he could hope for was the strength of mind and body to carry him through, but with his nightmares looming and his blackouts ever-present, how could he possibly survive this with any dignity or self-respect? He was losing both the battle and the war.

* * *

Will slowly opened his eyes. He was staring at Tonny’s stubble-covered jaw and he could feel the gentle rising and falling of the man’s bare chest as he slowly breathed, fast asleep. Will inhaled the salty smell of Tonny’s skin. It was still tinged with the metallic scent of blood. Though partially covered in blankets, as far as Will could tell, they were both naked. His heart began to race as he failed to recall where he was and what had happened until he realized they were in Tonny’s bedroom.

Will’s mind was foggy with exhaustion and his eyes felt stiff and puffy. He trailed his fingers up Tonny’s body and lightly gripped the side of the man’s neck, careful to avoid the wounds, and he began to remember. He slowly trudged through his murky thoughts, visualizing his breakdown and collapse. He remembered Tonny holding him, gently and tenderly, allowing Will to sob endlessly onto his chest. He recalled passing out and waking up still in Tonny’s arms, the man studying him while he slept and warmly smiling at him whenever his eyes opened. He remembered Tonny stripping off his own clothes and carefully washing the scratches and bites on his skin as Will had watched him, nauseated with disgust that he could hurt him so much. He remembered Tonny on the phone, as he, still in bed, drifted in and out of sleep, and rough hands holding him steady as they walked down the hall to Tonny’s room, away from the sweaty and bloody sheets of his own bed.

He remembered waking briefly to Tonny nuzzling against the back of his neck, embracing him gently from behind. He remembered lips pressing and hands fondling and the heat of their bodies bringing comfort and release to them both during this weary and agonizing ordeal.

He was still dazed, unsure how much time had actually passed, and he rubbed his face into Tonny’s shoulder. The man stirred, blinking as he turned to him, pressing his mouth against Will’s hair and sighing.

Will’s throat was tight and sore like he hadn’t spoken in days. “What time is it?” he gruffly croaked.

“Don’t worry about it, Will. Just relax,” whispered Tonny, nuzzling Will’s head with his chin.

“I think I’m thirsty,” said Will, with a dry cough. Tonny reached over to his nightstand and retrieved a glass of water for Will, who sat up to drink. Tonny rose with him, dazed himself.

“Thank you,” said Will, putting down the glass and inhaling a deep chest-filling breath. Tonny looked exhausted. His hair was disheveled, his eyes reddened, and the skin around his bites appeared inflamed and sore. Will sadly glanced up to his face and Tonny grinned at him. Will couldn’t help but chuckle and fondly smile back at the stupid oaf.

“I can barely remember what happened,” Will confessed.

“I’m not sure either,” said Tonny, running his hand through his unkempt hair. “You, uh, cried a lot,” he said, lightly chuckling. Will cringed and his cheeks flushed. “It’s ok,” warmly affirmed Tonny, “and you kept falling asleep, but it was good you rested.”  

“Where’s Aksel?” asked Will, peering over at the empty crib.

“Layla. But we have to go get him later. She and her mother have been watching him for two days now. They think we have flu,” said Tonny.

“Two days? Jesus christ,” said Will. Tonny nodded at him, sharing his surprise. “I missed my appointment,” Will suddenly realized. 

“I know. He called. He wasn’t happy that he couldn’t talk to you,” said Tonny through a stiffened jaw. “He threatened to drive up to see you. I told him no. I think you need time away from his questions,” he said, but Will began shaking his head in disagreement. “You always come back angry after you see him, Will. I don’t like how strange you are when you come home.” Anxiety and restlessness quivered his voice. “It feels fucking wrong, Will. I feel like something is wrong.”

“I’m not angry,” said Will, scoffing at Tonny’s concern. “It’s just a lot to process. He has his techniques, they help me remember things, and I often have a lot of self-reflection to do afterward. That’s all.”

“I have to put you back together every week, Will. You’re a fucking mess. I don’t think he's helping you,” said Tonny, feeling a slight relief at finally voicing his concerns aloud.

“Hannibal is the only one who can help me with this problem,” said Will, pressing on his forehead. “I don’t think you understand the extent of this.”

“I think I just spent two fucking days understanding the extent of this,” snapped Tonny. “I haven’t eaten. You won’t eat. I watched you fight yourself when you sleep. You say things, evil things, Will. Horrible things to me, about me. You scare me, and it is not getting better. It’s getting worse.”

Will shook his head. Tonny had no idea what he was talking about. The only time he ever felt grounded was during his sessions with Hannibal. Whatever Tonny was feeling was unfounded and ridiculous.

Tonny git his teeth at Will’s shaking head. “Not no, Will. Yes. Yes, this is what is happening. Right now, today – on the bridge – your blackouts. Stop saying no!” he argued as his voice elevated.

“Ok, Tonny, fine. He’s the devil. He’s making me sick. He’s purposefully making me have nightmares and blackouts just to fuck with you,” countered Will. “Is that what you want to hear? Do you know how fucked up and ridiculous that sounds? He’s a psychiatrist, not a psychopath. What you are saying is insane.”

Tonny couldn’t help but feel a twang of jealousy at Will’s constant defense of Hannibal and his incessant desire to see him. He loathed that man. “Ok, Will,” he muttered, suppressing his bitterness.

They sat in silence again, glancing at one another but with no direction to take their tensing conversation.

There were things Will needed to share and Tonny was already scared of him. But he was lost, so he felt he had no choice but to try to explain himself and his need to see Hannibal. “I shot and killed someone when I was consulting for the FBI,” he finally coaxed out of himself. “It was a gruesome scene. It was a god awful case. We had chased this man and he did things to women – young women.” Will stopped briefly to catch his breath. “There are other killers out there – the Ripper …,” he sighed. “They are men with deranged minds that kill without mercy or remorse. I tried to catch them, but I’m not strong enough to do it anymore.” Will was out of breath and his voice quivered before he continued. “The FBI used me to find out more about them. I can … feel things. I can empathize with these sadistic criminals, and it’s been ... overwhelming, all-encompassing. My mind won’t rest anymore.”

Tonny paused and thought about what Will was saying. “The Ripper? What is that?” he asked, focusing on this unknown but somehow familiar word.

“He’s a serial killer,” explained Will, falling back into his role as an instructor. “He kills in threes – the method varies. Sometimes he tells stories with the victims, like with books or bible passages. He removes organs. He travels the east coast.” He finally stopped and turned to Tonny whose eyes had widened with concern.

“Stories like Shakespeare?” asked Tonny.

“What? Shakespeare?” He shook his head. “What are you talking about?”

“Nothing. I just, I don’t know. I was just remembering something.”  

Will narrowed his eyes, disturbed that the Ripper’s design was of more interest to Tonny than his confession. “Did you hear what I said though? I killed someone. Someone I empathized with. It was traumatic. It’s fucking with my head. I had to live and think like this god-awful monster and now I can’t break away from it.” He could feel himself patronizing Tonny but couldn’t stop. The man seemed bizarrely unfazed by his admission.

“Why?” asked Tonny. He thought Will said he killed a horrible person. He didn’t understand how Will could feel remorse for killing a bad person or how it could break him like this.

“It’s hard to explain, that feeling of ending a life. It’s not easy to manage,” said Will, returning his face to his hands.

Tonny sighed, knowing that feeling all too well, but to him, it wasn’t hard to manage. It was freeing. It was like a huge burden had been lifted despite the constant fear of being discovered. He has escaped even though it had formed a new prison in which he was forced to reside. And Will was a former cop and he worked for the FBI. He even taught new agents how to find criminals like himself. His friends were all agents and psychiatrists, profilers and lab techs. Tonny swallowed back his visceral fear and hoped to god he wouldn’t regret this later. “I’ve killed someone,” he whispered.

Will dropped his hands and slowly turned to Tonny who remained motionless, staring at the floor. “Is that why you were in prison?” 

Tonny shook his head.

“Was it an accident?” His voice was tinged with hope. 

Tonny shook his head again.

“Did you murder someone?” he asked through his fearful skepticism. Tonny looked him in the eyes and inhaled but remained silent, unable to utter his answer. “Are you fucking serious? Who knows about it?” he asked, not really certain why it would matter.

“I don’t know, but it’s why I left Denmark,” he confessed.

Will covered his mouth and shook his head. How could this have happened? Tonny had a beautiful child that need a home and protection and his father was a drug-addicted murderer. Will had opened his home to the struggling family and now he was harboring a felon, a criminal on the run. He had shared his life and his bed with a killer. “Who … who did you kill?” he asked, his voice quivering with every breath.

“My father,” he whispered. “I hated my father.”

“We don’t get to kill the people we hate, Tonny,” grumbled Will, breathy and quiet.

They sat in silence, both in deep contemplative thought, neither sure how to proceed with these new and unfortunate disclosures. They each only knew fragments of stories – one-sided tales that only spoke of the grief or the horrors of their actions. Too raw and exposed to continue, they held their tongues in fear that whatever else they may share might cause the other’s minds to bend and break under the stress of carrying the other man’s insurmountable burden.


	28. Let Not Your Sorrow Die

The man ascends the steps to the office in the loft above the garage. Time slows as his stomach churns with fear and his skin breaks out in a cold sweat. A bitter metallic taste rolls over his tongue and the lump in his throat is so thick, so dense, that he can barely breathe, let alone swallow. There are no words he can say to mend this rift because the child is a disgrace. He enters the office and takes a seat on the worn couch, pouring himself a drink.

The boy can do nothing but fail. The child has always behaved shamefully, floundering even when presented with effortless opportunities to succeed. His survival has always depended on his spinelessness, living his life as an obligation to his family, and often a liability. He is, and always will be, a disgrace.

However, within a single act, there can be redemption. Burdened with a task that can save his family from despair and utter ruin, the man can make years of ineptitude and humiliation turn to nothing but a bad dream. He can change it if the boy is willing to be the man he should have become over a decade ago.

The door to the office slowly opens and the boy enters – sullen, ashamed, and weak – closing the door behind him. He stands, shifting his weight on his feet like a nervous chimp with a look of fear smeared across his face. This is no man. This is a failure. This is a useless waste, undeserving of anyone’s time or energy. Waves of regret fill the man on the couch for even hoping that this child could accomplish anything even remotely constructive. His life would be far easier and entirely less aggravating if the boy was simply gone – if he simply vanished from this world. He was, after all, the unfortunate mistake of a whore.

The familiar look on the boy’s face was obvious. It was a look of defeat. What a pathetic useless being. His entire existence has been cloaked in endless and much-deserved humiliation. He would put him out of his misery. He would end it all right now.

The man stands up to face his son, a boy who couldn’t be bothered to rid him of a single malicious but extraneous woman. What could he make of this pathetic child? An example?

He looks deep into the boy’s eyes only to discover that this feeble and miserable excuse for a man has his own secret to share. He is not a living, breathing mistake incarnate. He is lifeless, shameless, and unloved, his soul having already been crushed many years ago.

Tonny startled awake, shaking and breathless. He struggled and fought to inhale but choked. He hurling himself off the bed, crashing painfully on his hands and knees, finally heaving in gulps of air. He coughed and spit and collapsed onto the cold floor, panicked and scared, his mind still haunted by the image of his own dead eyes and the scorching indignity of hearing his own father’s thoughts of him. _No,_ he thought. _These are my thoughts, not his,_ and that was a much more painful realization. He laid on the floor of his room in contemplative misery before realizing he couldn’t stand up, but then again, he surmised, he had nowhere he could go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to share this dream's origins in case readers haven't seen Pusher. Sort of a spoiler alert to the movie follows.
> 
> This chapter is a role reversal of a [scene at the end of Pusher II](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RnWxwJxpDig) in which Tonny has been instructed to kill someone to pay off an extremely high monetary debt that he inadvertently owes to his father. When he fails to kill the woman (he refuses to try and simply leaves), and then returns to his father's garage to tell him such, the above scene plays out only Tonny snaps and kills his father. 
> 
> You can literally see and feel shame, humiliation, and contempt in the scene in the movie. And it's one of the first glimpses we see of Tonny taking control of his own life and showing that he is strong and deserving of respect. This scene (and the subsequent ending of Pusher II) were what made me fall in love with the director Nicolas Winding Refn.


	29. “I don't think you know Will at all.”

“Hello, Tonny,” said Hannibal. “Come in.” He motioned to the leather chair opposite his own. Tonny glared at him but sat down in the appointed seat, crossing his arms in a huff.

Hannibal inhaled deeply as he took his seat, pausing only briefly before jumping straight into the conversation he'd been mulling over for days. “Will is more than a patient to me,” he began. “He is a dear friend of mine and I’m concerned for him.” He would remain blunt. “Since you are part of that concern, I have asked Will to see if you would be willing to speak with me.”

“And here I am,” scoffed Tonny, wondering how the hell Will talked him into this.

“And here you are,” he repeated. “Do you know what I do as a psychiatrist? What my role is in a person’s life?”

“You help crazy people not be so fucking crazy,” he answered with a sigh. He couldn’t believe Will forced him in here. He was going to have to punch him when he got home.

Hannibal sneered at the sheer magnitude of crudeness that radiated off every aspect of this cretin. “I facilitate change. Will has come to me with a variety of concerns for his mental well being and I am charged with the task of helping him wade through these concerns. We work together to explore them, organize them, and in some cases, eliminate them.”

“And I'm a concern, right?” said Tonny, fidgeting his fingers along the arm of his chair. “I’m a concern to be _eliminated_?”

“Do you think you are having a positive influence on Will’s life?”

“He likes having my cock in his mouth. Is that positive?” said Tonny, grinning at his retort. At this point he’d say anything to work his way under Hannibal’s skin.

Hannibal inhaled sharply. How much restraint was he willing to maintain in Tonny’s presence? He had killed plenty of men for far fewer social infractions. “Do you think it is appropriate to talk about Will like that? Do you have any respect for him?” he asked calmly.

“I respect Will. And I don’t think he’s as crazy as he thinks he is. I’m mean, he’s fucked up, but I don’t think it’s his fault,” said Tonny glaring at the man across from of him.

“We have established that you are not a licensed psychiatrist, since you cannot even define the term, so what makes you feel qualified to diagnose Will’s mental state?”

Tonny paused. “So you’re saying you think Will's crazy?”

Again, Hannibal collected himself before continuing, “No. I don’t think Will is crazy. I think he's confused. I think he's suffering from mental exhaustion. I think he needs rest and a stress-free environment, and I don’t believe you are helping him achieve either of those goals in any way.”

“If I'm not helping him, why does he keep trying to fuck me?” goaded Tonny, staring down Hannibal like a junkyard dog.

“Will doesn’t know his own limitations. He doesn’t fully understand how he may handle being in a physical relationship with someone. He is attempting to put a bandage on a gaping arterial wound. You are insufficient and insignificant.”

“Will can't make decisions for himself now? You have to do it for him?” said Tonny. “And even though Will is happy fucking around with me, you aren't. Why’s that?”

Hannibal cleared his throat. “I think you're a crude human being with absolutely no value and that you are forcing your toxic behavior on a dear friend of mine that I feel obligated to protect. So, no, I am not happy with you, and that's why.”

“Fucking is toxic behavior?” he wondered, scoffing in disgust.

“No,” said Hannibal, “but bringing illegal stimulants into the home of someone suffering from a mental breakdown is not the behavior of a responsible or respectful adult. I don't think cocaine would be beneficial to my patient or my friend.”

Tonny hesitated, unsure why Will would have shared that information with Hannibal. That was personal and he felt an enormous amount of guilt over what had transpired that night. Had Will told Hannibal everything? What about his past? His father? Tonny shifted in his chair, trying to find a comfortable position while still under Hannibal’s interrogative leer. “It’s just coke. Everyone here thinks it's fucking horrible. It’s not like it’s meth. A little cocaine does not make me bad for Will,” he hesitantly stated.

Hannibal glanced away in temporary exasperation before looking back at the man. “You don’t think so?” Tonny stared at him in silence. “Please, Tonny, share with me in what ways you think you are helping Will recover.”

His initial answer wavered and he paused. How was he helping Will? He had no idea. They fucked around sometimes when Will was feeling emotionally overwhelmed and Tonny often held Will when he cried, overtaxed by his mental exhaustion, but he refused to say those things. “I … take care of the farm.”

“And Will pays you to do that. I am talking about the relationship you share,” said Hannibal, aggressively leaning forward to rest his arms on his knees. “Is your physical relationship improving Will’s mental state? Are his nightmares decreasing? Is he still sleepwalking? Since you have moved in, Will has begun obsessing over trivial things. His panic attacks have returned. He is hallucinating, unable to sleep, and now, thanks to your own addiction problems, he has the opportunity to begin experimenting with a stimulant that could temporarily mask all of these things, making him feel as though he has more control than he actually does.”

Tonny averted his eyes from Hannibal’s penetrative gaze. Presented with a litany of ways in which he was failing Will, he was unable to think of a single thing he was doing to comfort the man, despite knowing that his physical presence had to be helping in someway.

“Do you know how dangerous Will could be? His dreams and hallucinations revolve around an altercation that resulted in him killing a man. I don't think this should be taken lightly,” explained Hannibal. Tonny leaned back in his chain, his eyes fixed on the floor. Will had only recently divulged anything about the man he killed or his consulting job with the FBI. Even with that information, Tonny was still confused about how it all affected his mental state. He refused to ask Will. It all seemed too painful to bring up. “And I know you have a small child in that house,” continued Hannibal, “Do you understand Will’s insecurity and issues with being a father?”

Tonny’s memory flashed with images of Will holding Aksel. Will loved his little boy.

“Do you understand how a mentally unstable man with all the issues I have just stated may be dangerous around your child?” Hannibal clenched his jaw as he stared unnervingly at the man he so desperately wanted to rid himself of.

Tonny rubbed his thighs, uncomfortable with this realization. Will would never hurt Ask. He was sure of it, wasn’t he? Hannibal’s extensive list of concerns was only feeding his suspicion that there were far more sinister intentions at work here. “I don't think you know Will at all,” he whispered.

“I know Will more intimately than you, Tonny,” said Hannibal, tapping a finger to his temple. Tonny noisily exhaled and wondered about this statement. He was growing more and more fearful of this alarming man. If this was what Hannibal would say to him, what was he saying to Will?


	30. Gods Delight in Tragedies

It had never really occurred to Will how quickly mice could make nests. It seemed like it had been overnight. All the sudden a giant mass of shredded paper had appeared in the corner of the barn behind an old woodpile he was going to move that morning. The entire outside looked plastered with what appeared to be old National Geographic magazines. Strips of glossy human body parts, bloody animals of the African plains, and science-related text adorned the outside like festive decorations. He had poked it and heard rustling and didn’t have the heart to destroy it. This, unfortunately, meant that it made the pile of old barn planks completely untouchable. He wasn’t sure how to proceed. _Maybe get more cats? Fuck, my head hurts._

He continued washing dishes, refusing to acknowledge Tonny when he entered the kitchen. After about thirty seconds more of his mouse – and now cat – contemplation, he felt a radiating heat directly behind him and he tensed, feeling the tip of Tonny’s nose just barely graze the back of his neck.

“Don’t,” he said, wincing, and he leaned forward to both break contact and glance out the window across the yard.

“I sent them to look for the fox den by the stream,” said Tonny. “Why do you care so goddamn much about anyone seeing us? Especially Layla.” He sighed out of frustration but forced his body harder into Will’s back.

Will stood up and huffed. “I’m allowed to be as secretive as I want, Tonny. It’s not like any of this is particularly normal.” He returned his attention to the dishes in the sink. “I’ve been looking, but I haven’t seen that fox for a couple days now. I hope it’s ok,” he said, attempting to change the subject.

“Not normal?” repeated Tonny, shaking his head. “Do you hear yourself?” He reached his right arm up and across Will’s chest pulling his back into him. “This is not as strange as you keep thinking,” he said before leaning his mouth against Will’s shoulder.

“Not this, you idiot. Me ... and you. This whole thing between you and I is just fucked up.” Will slowly pulling away from him to test the firmness of his hold. When he felt Tonny’s grip tighten, he knew it wasn’t about embracing him publicly. It was about asserting his control over him. Will didn’t really appreciate either message, and his head was in agonizing pain. “Get off me, Tonny,” he growled, turning his head to look at the man pressed into his shoulder. “I can’t take this shit right now.”

“Do you see this – the anger? You saw fucking Lecter yesterday.” Tonny pulled away from his shoulder but did not yet let go of Will’s upper body.

“It’s not Hannibal,” snapped Will, exasperated that this whole exchange was leading right back down the same path it always did.

Tonny released Will back into the sink and turned around to lean against the counter, looking him in the face. “I think he feeds you a line of shit to make you feel sorry for yourself.” He crossed his arms, readying himself for an onslaught. He had, after all, just insulted Will’s precious psychiatrist … again.  

“What the hell does that mean?” scoffed Will, glaring at Tonny’s goading face.

“I think he's a selfish asshole who gets off on controlling people. But mainly just you though. He fuckin’ _loves_ you, doesn’t he?”

“ _He’s_ controlling me now? What the fuck were you just trying to do?” snapped Will.

“Oh my god, Will,” sighed Tonny, rubbing his eyes in exasperation. “We’re back to me not being allowed to touch you now? I guess only when it’s convenient for you, in the middle of the fucking night. What the hell is with all your goddamn rules?!”

Will’s head was throbbing and his temples dripped with sweat. “Just stop it, Tonny. Hannibal’s not trying to control me. I don’t know why you keep thinking that. You’re obsessed.”

“I’m obsessed? You do everything he says! And he talks to me like my father did, like I’m a child. He talks about you like you're a fucking saint. Like you should have everything and I deserve nothing,” he snapped. “He’s a dick!”

“What the hell did you guys talk about anyway?” asked Will, now incredibly anxious for his next appointment with Hannibal.

“So, you're curious now?” asked Tonny, sneering at Will. “Maybe you should ask him why the hell he thinks you're so fucking delicate. You're weird, yeah, unstable, obviously, but you are not made of fucking glass. I think Lecter thinks I am going to fuck you so hard that I break you. Obviously you don’t tell him _everything_ about us.” His face twisted into a scowl at the thought of how far Will had been unwilling to go with their sexual relationship. It was a subject of almost nightly debate that that point.

“Fuck you,” snapped Will. He winced in pain as he turned back to the sink, rubbing his burning eyes.

“Is that an option now? Because I’ll take it.” Tonny snickered at the rage increasing in Will’s tensing shoulders. “It has to be better than the boring shit we do now.” He pulled out a pack of cigarettes and headed to the door. “That anger, Will? That anger you feel right now?” he said, pointing at Will’s curling lip and furrowed brows. “You can thank Lecter for that. So don’t be pissed at me.” He had almost made it to the front door when he stopped to share one more piece of news, “And just so you know, I shot that fox three days ago,” he said, looking at Will’s pained face. “It was killing all your fucking chickens.”


	31. Accuse Some Innocent

Tonny’s hands ache and sting as the icy water laps higher up his arms. His kneeling body shakes and he fights to keep his numbing appendages submerged in the piercing cold. Every splash to his face digs into his skin like a raptor’s claws, but he must persist. A madness seeps from his flesh like blood from a thousand severed veins. This malevolent legacy must end here. His chest, soaked and heavy, heaves with violent, agonizing breaths. There will only be pain and horror if they all survive. But what if they survive? A sudden clarity pervades his mind, and his fingers lose their grip. He falls back from the water and lands on his back, windless on the rocky shore.

He gasps and convulses on the ground, choking and vomiting in the dirt. What is he doing? His shuddering body stumbles to its feet and his eyes fixate on a strange a creature lurking across the stream. Billowing clouds of respiration rise from the darkness. He tried to focus in the moonlight – looking, searching, and watching the cloud creep back and forth along the embankment. He is weakening and as his ringing ears finally fall silent, he hears the gruff and guttural bellows of the beast. In the darkness, his pupils finally fall upon the stag’s flaming eyes. They burn into him from across the water like spotlights illuminating the man’s darkest secrets.

Tonny scrambles back in an attempt to flee but he trips, his feet caught in fabric gathered along the stony ground. He frees his legs from the tangle only to stop and finger the small blue and white knit blanket in his hand. What is this doing so far from his son’s warm bed? 

Hesitation turns to panic and he scans the ground in horror. What did he do? Where is his son?! His face burns with the unimaginable terror of losing a child to the darkened wilderness. He clambers over sharp rocks and broken sticks to reach the water’s edge. _There will be nothing,_ he begs. _Please let there be nothing_ … There should be clear empty water  or a muddy pool of upturned rocks – but no, there is more than that.  He reaches towards the icy stream and finds, among those upturned stones, his greatest fear incarnate – a small, lifeless body.

His vision blurs to white as his mind collapses under the bitter stabs of denial and guilt. How could he have done this? Why is this happening?! How did he let this happen? His feet scramble to find footing as he crawls back out of the stream, now a broken, vile man. He heaves on his back, wails of grief erupting from his body like souls escaping the fiery pits of hell.

There is nothing – no life, no sounds, no stars in the pitch black sky. Only two small, white glowing orbs hover over him. They inch closer, casting their gaze upon his shaking, weeping body. The form is somehow silhouetted, though it is pitch against the darkness. It is a man that is not a man. No, it is a monster – a great, horned monster.  

Will gasped and heaved awake in the total darkness of the woods. The silence of the glen engulfed him and he fell back to the ground, writhing in the frigid cold. Mud matted his hair and his clothes were soaked, clinging to his quivering skin. He was still trapped in the nightmare.

He scrambled to his feet again and screamed for mercy. Something had to end this. Something had to bring him back.

It was coming for him. It was following him and he scoured the earth for a weapon. When his hands fell only on wet leaves and twisted branches, he collapsed, surrendering to the night and the demon who breathed against his neck, obsessed with the task of destroying him.

* * *

“Will? Oh fuck!” The leaves rustled and shifted around him. “Shit! Will?! Hey, hey, hey, oh fuck!” The ground pulsed and pounded under him as a man quickly approached. His body was rhythmically shaken by the fear of someone who ferociously gripped his arms. “Come on you fucking asshole! Wake up!” 

The voice was familiar but the tongue too common. It brought comfort and intrigue but also a pain. Will slowly forced open his eyes to see Tonny staring down at him. “What the fuck are you doing out here?! What happened?!” he screamed. Will rolled to his side and swatted at Tonny’s pawing hands. The last thing he needed was to feel compressed, detained, or smothered.

Dawn was breaking over the mountains and beams of light streamed through the darkened clouds. The meager glow barely illuminated the glen where he’d dropped. He breathed through the dampened grass as a wave of nausea swept through him. It took all his strength just to breath let alone think. Hands suddenly clutched his upper body and he was hoisted to his feet, warm arms wrapping around his stiff, frozen body.

The sudden elevation tightened his chest and he exhaled through his violently chattering teeth. “I don’t know …,” he finally answered. 

Tonny ripped off his coat and wrapped it around Will’s quivering shoulders. “How the fuck did I find you,” he sighed, glancing around the empty field. This glen had been hidden deep inside the trees, beyond the trail and the stream. He draped Will’s lifeless arm over his shoulders and they limped around tree trunks and undergrowth to get back to the trail. “How long were you out here?” he asked, somehow expecting an answer, but Will could barely keep his eyes open.

By the time they made it to the truck, Will was unable to stand. He crumpled into the cab, laying his head in Tonny’s lap as they quickly drove back to the farmhouse.

Inside, Tonny laid Will in his bed, brushing the dirt and debris from this hair. Will had spent all night alone outside, tearing through the brush and stumbling through the stream. His face was scratched and his fingers bloody and stiff. His clothes were soaked so Tonny piled blankets on top of him and brought in warm, wet cloth to clean Will’s mud-caked face. 

After an hour of pacing the bedroom, Tonny finally heard Will moaning as he stirred among the twisted, muddy sheets. Will’s eyes suddenly cracked open and he began frantically groping the bed. “Where is he?!” he snapped through clenched teeth. He tore at the blankets as he wailed in pain, desperate to find what was missing. “Where the fuck is he?!” he shrieked, dropping to the floor.

Tonny dove to him and attempted to force the hysterical man back into the bed. “Will, goddamn it, calm down!” he screamed, restraining Will’s frantic arms.

“Where is he?!” he shrieked through panicked sobs.

“Who, Will?! What are you talking about?!”

Will struggled to free himself, clawing at the bed to get to the door. “Aksel! Where is he?!”

“He’s fine!” snapped Tonny, pulling Will’s head to his chest. “Layla!” he screamed.

After several tense minutes of Tonny rocking Will’s overwrought body, Layla slowly opened the door and peered inside. She crept into the room, wiping her tear-streaked face and cradling the child against her chest. Her eyes widened as she finally saw Will’s frenzied state. 

Will’s gaze met the toddler’s reddened eyes, and he dropped his hands, falling limp against Tonny’s chest. “What happened?” he muttered, his body becoming listless with relief.

“I don’t know,” confessed Tonny, still clutching Will’s head against his shoulder. “I woke up and you were gone.” 

The persistent fog of confusion was beginning to lift and Will took a deep, jagged breath, wrapping his weakened arms around Tonny’s neck. It had been so real – too real. Panic attacks and nightmares were Will’s own personal burden, but the blackouts that led him down dangerous passageways with the intent of forcing him to violence were vexing the entire household. No one was safe with him anymore. He was an unpredictable bomb and his family was the target.

Tonny glanced up at the doorway where Layla silently cried against Aksel’s blond hair. He waved her to the bed and she ran to them, embracing the two men with the boy still gripping her shirt. The toddler wormed his way to the bed and Will, now sobbing, scoop him into his trembling arms.


	32. For all the Water in the Ocean

Tonny was drifting to sleep, struggling to get comfortable as anxiety continued to creep across his skin. He was so worried about Will and his unpredictable behavior that he wasn’t sleeping anymore. Over the last week, he had woken up more to check on Will than he had Aksel. He was now ritualistically inspecting the door locks. He'd nailed all the windows shut. The barn, filled with all manners of sharp and dangerous objects, now bore a new padlock, opened only with a four-digit code that Tonny kept hidden in his room. Will's truck keys stayed with Tonny now, in his bedside table. He was growing more disturbed with every new precaution he felt he had to take, and he had no one to share his concerns with. He refused to talk to Hannibal, and though Jack and Alana seemed well-meaning, he was certain Will wouldn’t appreciate them being included in his personal problems.

Tonny’s internal focus upon Will was interrupted when he heard his door hinges softly creak open. His lips parted and he sighed, feeling the bed shift as Will crawled under the blankets. He rolled over to look him in the eyes, hoping to evaluate his lucidity before the man fell back asleep.

Will was drained. His shirt was wet with sweat and his dark hair clung to his forehead and cheeks. Tonny stared at his disheveled appearance and brushed the soaked hair away from his unblinking eyes. He was unmoving and emotionless as he drowned in an abyss of self-torment.

“You ok?” whispered Tonny, but Will said nothing in return. This had been an almost nightly ritual for weeks. _Are you ok?_ he thought again, already knowing the answer. Will hardly ever answered as his eyes spoke clearly. They were dark, cold, and vacant of life. Tonny skimmed his fingers along Will’s upper arm and watched his eyes soften and close, rubbing his cheek against the pillow. 

With a new idea in mind, Tonny rolled away from Will and sat up on the edge of his bed. Aksel was still fast asleep so Tonny carefully picked up Will’s sweaty hand and moved towards the door. He motioned with his head to follow and Will slowly rose. Hand in hand, they traversed the hall to Will’s room, carefully weaving between dogs before silently closing the door behind them.

Will crept to his bed and sat down, leaning over to turn on a light. “Tonny, I can’t tonight,” he confessed as he rubbed his weary eyes. “Sex is the last thing I need,” he sighed. “I’m sorry.”

Tonny joined him on the edge of the bed and pulled Will’s wet shirt up and over his head, tossing it on the floor. “Just lay down, ok?”

Will complied, lying on his still-dampened sheets. Whatever Tonny had in mind, Will refused to fight it. He had no fortitude left to offer resistance. He was just a shell.

Tonny removed his own shirt and reclined next to Will in bed, pulling the blankets over them both. He snaked his arm under Will’s neck and pulled him tightly against his chest.

“I feel–” began Will, nuzzling into Tonny’s skin, “I feel so sick. Like I can’t breathe or think anymore. Everything feels so hopeless.”

Tonny drew him closer, nodding. “I know,” he said, attempting to say anything reassuring. “Does this help some?” he asked, rubbing his cheek against Will’s hair.

Will slowly exhaled, “Yeah.” They sat in silence, sensitive to each other’s erratically beating hearts, wondering how much longer life was going to unfairly attempt to crush their spirits.  

“I’m so sorry, Tonny,” apologized Will, working through the lump in his throat and hiding his watering eyes. “I feel so guilty for bringing you here.”

Tonny felt his composure weaken, listening to Will fight back tears. Watching someone he cared about suffer in such a cruel and unrelenting way was heart-wrenching. He was so powerless to stop it. “Don’t say you're sorry. You haven't done anything wrong.”

Will scoffed and sighed against Tonny’s chest. “How can you say that? The first day here, you were attacked by my fucking dog,” he said, cringing at the memory, “I gave you rabies for fuck’s sake.”

“You didn’t give me rabies.” He snickered and tousled Will’s soaked hair. “You got me to hospital though. And you stayed with me all night. You made sure Aksel was safe.”

Will listened but scowled, shaking his head. “I’m sorry you had to take care of me after my accident. I was a stupid fuck who apparently doesn’t even know how to walk,” he said, refusing to look Tonny in the eye.

“You fell, Will. Calm down,” said Tonny. He smiled as he remembered that entire surreal evening. Though it had been painful and inconvenient, it had stirred up their relationship, exposing more than just benign and friendly emotions. It had been the catalyst that forced Will to lower his self-defensive walls and the night Tonny had been allowed to observe Will when he was most physically vulnerable. 

“Well my friends didn’t help me at all,” said Will, “So I’m sorry they’re assholes.”

Tonny’s eyes widened and he nodded in agreement. “Yup. That one’s true,” he said, smiling down at Will. “They are a bunch of fucking assholes.”

Will snickered and rubbed his sniffling nose before rolling to his stomach. He rested his chin on Tonny’s chest as he continued. “I’m sorry I fight you so much,” he said, releasing a long-held sigh. “You don’t deserve to be chastised for everything.” The guilt he carried affected everything he did and he was utterly awestruck by Tonny’s unending patience with his constant needs.

Tonny’s eyes relaxed and he smiled. “I’m not an easy person to live with, Will,” he said. “I’m loud and annoying. I smoke, and drink, and …” he swallowed back his words, unable to speak so casually about all of his vices. “I’m rude and _toxic_ , apparently,” he said, rolling his eyes as he parroted Hannibal’s words. “You do good with me. I’m a pretty big loser,” he said with a grin.

“Yeah, you’re right. You're a fucking pain in the ass,” said Will and Tonny chuckled, leaning up to kiss him on the forehead. Will shook his head at the peck. “Why the hell do you put up with this shit? I’m a goddamn wreck and you go out of your way to take care of me. You don’t owe me anything and yet …”

Tonny grinned and ran his fingers up Will’s bare back. “What else do I have to do around here?” he joked. “I can’t start my meth lab with the barn still full of your shit.” 

Will laughed and sniffled, laying his head back on Tonny’s chest. “Meth, eh? I hear that's pretty lucrative,” he chuckled. “And we could seriously use the money.”

Tonny quietly snickered and reached over to the nightstand for his cigarettes. He lit one before returning his attention to Will. “Should I open a window?” 

“I stopped giving a rat’s ass months ago,” he confessed and Tonny nodded.

“The money thing,” Tonny said, “I should be saying sorry to you.” Will looked back up at him. This was not a topic they’d discussed. He still paid Tonny under the table, but with the bizarre relationship they now had and with how much time and money Will spent on Aksel it all felt bizarre and inappropriate. “I stole so much money from you when I got here,” confessed Tonny, taking a drag. Will furrowed his eyebrows and shook his head. Tonny cleared his throat before continuing, “I went through the house and took anything I could find, and for the first few weeks I stole from your wallet too.” 

A relieved smile crept across Will’s face, “You fucking bastard,” he said, “God damn it, I thought I was going insane.”

Tonny smiled and bit his lip. “So, I’m sorry for _that_ ,” he said, “and for lying so much.” He took another drag to calm himself despite Will’s soft and appreciative eyes. “And I’m sorry for killing your dog,” he said grimacing.

Will chuckled, “You don’t have to apologize for shooting a rabid dog, Tonny, especially one that attacked you. Please shoot things that attack you. You have both my permission and blessing,” he said, nuzzling Tonny’s chest again.

“I will remember that you said that,” he said, “And I’m sorry for getting trashed at that bar. I knew you were nervous about me getting drunk but I didn’t care. I should have cared. I was just trying to ignore some things and I was pretty fucked up that night,” he admitted, exhaling a cloud of smoke over their heads. Though getting drunk with Will and pissing on his shoes wasn’t the worst thing he’d done to him, Tonny still felt ashamed. Will had marked a new chapter of his life, and returning to his old habits felt both shameful and disrespectful towards the man that had helped he and his son start over. 

“You were ignoring some things?” questioned Will. “What things?”

Tonny clenched his jaw. “I had some interesting thoughts that night – things I wanted to do to you but didn’t think I should.”

“What stopped you?”

“I think I thought too much of you. You have so much more than I do. I never thought you would stoop this low,” he chuckled. “But you have no standards apparently. Good for me, bad for you.”

Will grinned but was suddenly struck by how sad Tonny’s self-deprecating comments were. He’d never had high self-esteem, but to think of Tonny thinking even less of himself was mind boggling. He crawled up and nuzzled into Tonny’s neck. “Not bad for me,” he corrected. “And I’m pretty sure you’re the one with no standards.”

Tonny shrugged his shoulders and leaning his cheek on Will’s head. He was still mulling over his list of transgressions. “But I’m most sorry for the coke,” he blurted. “I’m just so goddamn sorry for making you do it … and I feel so bad for all the shit that happened. And then I lied about it …” Tonny's voice cracked and he brought his hand up to cover his eyes, trying not to sob. “I just didn’t think it would hurt you like that.”

Will looked up at him, shaking his head. “Tonny I’m an adult. You didn’t make me take it. And this … problem I have, it’s been an issue for a while now. It wasn’t anything you did or anything I took. That was totally coincidental.” He laid his cheek against Tonny’s neck, feeling him shake as he tried to control his tears. 

Tonny's guilt and fear were suddenly swelling up within him and Will grit his teeth. He hated this. He didn’t want to be sick. He didn’t want to hurt anyone, let alone Tonny and Aksel. Why was this happening to him? Why was he being forced to hurt the people he cared most about? What kind of horrible monster was he turning into? “What the fuck is this?” he said, disturbed by this sudden realization. “Why is this happening? Am I fucking dying?” 

Tonny pulled Will into his chest, wrapping his arms tightly around him. “You’re not dying, Will.”

“How can you know that? No one can give me any answers,” said Will, pulling back from the embrace. “I’ve been to two neurologists already and neither found anything wrong.”

“Then we'll find another doctor.”

“Those two were the only ones around here Hannibal trusts,” said Will with a discouraged sigh. He was running out of options.

“Fuck Hannibal, Will,” snapped Tonny. “We will find a new doctor, one who will tell you what the fuck’s going on.”

“Do you actually think I’m ok?” asked Will, “I mean, this isn’t going to be a simple fix when they figure it out. It has to be neurological or genetic.”

Tonny sighed in thought. “I’m eighty-five percent sure that you’re totally fine,” he said, smiling.

“Well, fuck you, too,” chuckled Will, sighing with mild relief. “Eighty-five percent though?” He wondered about the number and rested his cheek back on Tonny’s chest.

“It’s a strong eighty-five percent, maybe eighty-six,” he joked, and nuzzled his mouth against Will’s hair to hide the unfathomable concern blooming in his eyes.


	33. “What could possibly be troubling me?”

“How are you feeling today?” asked Hannibal, as he scanned Will’s disheveled appearance. “You seem flustered – maybe overextended? Are you taking care of yourself?” 

Will was soaked with sweat again and his clothes were crumpled and muddy. He appeared beyond exhausted like a fleeing refugee or a man on the run from the law. Will sneered, unappreciative of Hannibal’s assessment. “I’m not sleeping,” he stated, rubbing his beading forehead. Of course he wasn’t sleeping. He hadn’t slept decently in months. If he was sleeping, he risked wandering off. His nightmares plagued him with a constant barrage of wicked and horrifying thoughts that could lead him to do unspeakable acts. Of course he wasn’t sleeping; he was incapable of rest, and it was incapacitating him.

“Is something troubling you?” asked Hannibal, raising his eyebrows.

Will scoffed and laughed to himself. “No, Hannibal. Not a thing. What could possibly be troubling me?” he growled. Death knocked so close to him and he could sense it. Occasionally, he could feel the icy breath of it looming over his body. It was killing his loved ones in his mind. It was burning down his home. It was trapping him inside his own obsessions, watching him pointlessly scream and claw to be freed. His psyche was under attack and there was no force that could stop it.

Hannibal paused, noting Will’s fresh aggression and studied at him. The man’s eyes were glassy and bloodshot. He smelled acrid and bitter, like a rabid, caged animal. “The nightmares and the blackouts are back, I assume,” he said.

“They aren’t back,” sneered Will. “They never left, and it’s every fucking night now, Hannibal,” he said, glaring at his psychiatrist. He inhaled deeply and closed his eyes. The light filtering through the windows felt like a thousand knives all aimed at the inside of his skull.

Hannibal leaned back in his chair. “Tell me what you’re thinking about right now,” he instructed, watching Will paw aimlessly at the sleeves of his button-up shirt.

“I’m thinking about how this place is too fucking cold. It’s like a goddamn meat locker,” he snapped, shivering and glancing around the office, disgusted.

Hannibal recoiled slightly and narrowed his eyes at Will’s inexplicable hostility. “Will, where do you think you are right now?” he asked, staring into the man’s icy eyes.

Will slumped down into his chair still rubbing his forehead. “I’m in your office, Hannibal,” he stated. As he spoke, he raked his fingernails over his forehead, attempting to relieve the building pressure. “And it’s fucking cold. That’s what I _just_ said. Why the hell would I think I’m not in your office?” He was growing more and more disturbed with every breath. 

“I’m just attempting to understand your behavior, Will,” explained Hannibal, calmly sitting up. He slowly leaned forward in his chair before casually standing and stepping towards Will.

“What are you doing?” snapped Will, eyeing the man who suspiciously approached him. Hannibal scanned Will’s quivering body and gently placed his palm against Will’s pallid cheek. He flinched as Hannibal’s frigid touch met his skin and cringed in pain. “Stop,” he demanded, slapping at the hand. 

Hannibal withdrew his fingers from Will’s feverish cheek and returned to his chair. “Will, have you seen a doctor recently?” he asked. 

Will ignored Hannibal and blinked his eyes, glancing around the room. There was a noise – a strange rapping and it had captured Will’s attention. _Tap … tap … tap._ It was faint and low, and he searched the room. “What … ?” he whispered, his eyes rapidly darting between bookshelves. It was growing louder and rhythmically pulsed in his ears.

“Will,” said Hannibal as he began to stand. _Tap … tap, tap, tap._

“What is that noise?” demanded Will, still scanning the office with his fogging eyes. His face grew hot and it ached in throbs. Bolts of pain radiated down from behind his eyes and through his cheeks before dissipating into his parched mouth. He closed his eyes to push back the pain and clumsily pawed at his twinging face. A gush of heat cascaded over his mouth and he drew back his hands from his ace. They dripped with hot, sticky blood that seemed to have appeared from nowhere.

Hannibal was slowly approaching him, alarmed but still calm. “Will, I’m going to call an ambulance,” he stated clearly, his voice quiet but firm.

Will soberly looked down at his bloody, wet hands, unconcerned and detached from the gory scene. He stared in wonder at the red, silky strings connecting his face to the crimson pool forming in his lap. He wanted to touch them. They were so beautiful. Pinching and slipping his fingers, he plucked at the streams of blood and his mind groped and fought with the reality of what he was seeing. He was at peace for a moment; the wickedness was gone from his mind. And then, like a blow to the head, a cold grip returned and it crept across the back of his head. The great, antlered creature stood over him, forcing his face to look down into the pool. It’s reflection drilled itself into Will’s deteriorating mind. It’s white, orbital eyes now pierced him until they morphed into red balls of slippery wet fruit. His clawing hands fumbled, pouring their contents across his lap as they weakened. He attempted to pull back from the heaviness weighing upon his chest but he failed and plunged forward into the cold arms of the darkness.


	34. Silence and Eternal Sleep

Tonny ran frantically down the hallway, searching for Will’s room. Panicked and terrified, he burst into the room to find Will comatose in a hospital bed, his head bound with bright white bandages. Hannibal looked up at the intrusion and straightened in his chair, studying the unkempt mess wandering in. 

Tonny stiffened, gritting his teeth and ignored Hannibal as he hastily made his way to Will’s side. It had been months since Tonny had last seen the man without a pain-stricken grimace across his face. He looked so serene. His jaw wasn’t clenched in agony, even as he slept. He wasn’t thrashing or wailing or sweating through his clothes. He was at peace.

Will’s body was covered in tubes and wires running to machines over his bed. Tonny’s eyes followed a tube and stared at Will’s hand covered in tape and IV lines. Could he touch him in this stressed and weakened state? He was finally forced to admit to himself that Will was, in fact, made of glass, and this was unacceptable. He glanced up to notice Hannibal staring at him. 

“You got Jack’s message?” asked Hannibal when their eyes hesitantly met.

“Well, I'm here,” snapped Tonny, and he had no intention of leaving. Behind him was a chair and he drug it to the edge of the bed. This was his new home. Everything else was pointless. He tried to ignore Hannibal and remain focused Will’s face. It was morbidly serene and his heart ached knowing what pain and anguish had brought him here. He reached over the sheet and stroked the side of Will’s hand, pained with his inability to speak to or comfort him.

He slowly stroked his fingertips just barely over Will’s skin like you would touch the petal of a dying flower, waiting for it to fall. Hannibal cleared his throat and Tonny’s eyes shot up to him, fiercely glaring at this man he loathed. 

“What?!” growled Tonny.

“Not a thing,” said Hannibal.

“Fuck you, Lecter,” he barked back at him, before returning his gaze to Will. He wouldn’t speak to him. Everything the man said was a lie. He was a snake in an ugly fucking suit. But for the moment, however, for Will’s sake, Tonny swallowed his pride. “What are they saying is wrong with him?” he asked, averting his eyes.

“Encephalitis,” stated Hannibal, ignoring Tonny’s vulgarity. “Do you know what that is?” he asked. For the time being Hannibal could empathizing with Tonny’s heartache. He wasn’t heartless, after all. Tonny inhaled a deep, shaky breath and shook his head. “His brain is swollen,” explained Hannibal.

Rage crept up from the depths of his chest but Tonny attempted to suppress it. “So what are they doing for it?” he asked as calmly as he could muster.

“Antivirals, sedatives, fluids,” said Hannibal. “He passed out in my office and fell forward. The gauze is from hitting his head.” 

“How did he get it?” he asked, trying to stay calm. His voice slipped and he found himself chewing on the fear building within him.

Hannibal looked back at Will, offering Tonny’s eyes a minor reprieve. “They aren't sure, but probably a viral infection. These things happen.” 

Just hearing Hannibal’s voice was enraging him. Tonny hated being in the same room as him in the best of circumstances, let alone this horrific one. He sat back in his chair, rubbing his face. “I can't believe this is happening,” he said. “He was fine yesterday.”

“I don’t think Will has been fine for a while,” answered Hannibal.

The man was unfortunately absolutely right and Tonny agreed with a nod. “But I see him every day,” he said, covering his eyes again. “I could have done something.”

“The decline was gradual. Will had many other symptoms, not just of this, Tonny. It was confusing even for the specialists he saw.”

“The specialists that said there was nothing wrong?” he sneered.

Hannibal looked at the floor. “Yes.”

“Well, what the fuck now? Is he gonna wake up?” he snapped, panic rising from his voice.

“He will,” said Hannibal, nodding. “Right now he needs to rest.” 

Tonny cradled his forehead and muttered to himself. This was all his fault. Will had been fine and then he suddenly wasn’t. He had to have done something wrong. If only he’d been less antagonistic. He should have spent every night with him instead of staying up all night on his phone or drinking. He should have helped him more. He could have and he didn’t. It was the stress of having he and Aksel there. He should never have agreed to move in. Tonny slumped in his chair, hiding his tears from the probing gaze still studying him.

“Tonny, this is no one’s fault,” said Hannibal. 

The guilt was too much to bare. “It got bad after the cocaine,” he admitted, looking Hannibal in the eye. He had to tell someone.

Hannibal sat back in his chair, his nostrils flaring. “That is not what caused this, but it didn’t help,” he finally said.

Minutes passed into hours and the pair sat in silence, keeping vigil over Will. Hannibal briefly spoke to doctors and passed on bits of information that he felt Tonny would appreciate. All Tonny could manage was to pace the room, texting and calling Layla to check on Aksel and updating her on Will’s condition.

By late evening, Hannibal put on his coat and approached Tonny. “Are you heading home soon?” he asked the man nervously sitting by the bed in deep thought.

“I'm not leaving,” declared Tonny.

“Don’t you think you should go home and get some rest? You should eat. Will will be fine here. The staff is exemplary.” 

Tonny stood and puffed out his chest, refusing to be talked to like a child. “I am not leaving Will,” he vowed, enunciating each word clearly. “You go home. I will be here when he wakes up  – t onight, tomorrow, in a week, a month, a year. Go fucking home, Lecter. I'm staying right here with him.” He quickly sat back down and continued staring at Will’s broken body.

“This is not your fault, Tonny. Don’t punish yourself,” he said.

“Go,” pleaded Tonny, unable to look up. Hannibal nodded and headed to the door. Before he could latch it behind him, he heard the sobs of a person whose heart was shattering with frustration, uncertainty, and despair and Hannibal felt a twinge of guilt for not sooner allowing this man some private time to grieve.


	35. “Come. Drink with me.”

Hannibal quietly entered the hospital room, carrying two cups of coffee. He had finally arrived after a long, sleepless night at home. Tonny was curled up next to Will in the hospital bed, still awake and restless. The man continued to lay there, unmoving, despite hearing Hannibal enter.

“I brought you a coffee if you want it. I don’t know if you slept last night or not,” said Hannibal, setting the cups on a side table and pretending to ignore the intimate scene in front of him.

Tonny refused to move. He was nuzzled into Will’s neck, silent and still, trying not to become tangled in cords and tubes. He was still certain this entire ordeal was his fault. He felt personally responsible for keeping Will grounded here on earth, and he reminded him every few minutes with tender words and trailing fingers.

“Did you stay all night?” asked Hannibal, sitting in his chair. He looked up at Tonny just beyond Will’s face.

“Yeah,” he croaked, sniffing his nose. He’d slept in chairs or on the waiting room floor, patiently waiting for any sign of movement from Will. 

“Come; drink with me,” suggested Hannibal, trying to smile.

Hannibal would get no fight from him today. Tonny was mentally drained and physically exhausted. He sighed and slowly started moving until Hannibal stood to hold up Will’s IV, so the man could sit up unencumbered. Tonny slid off the bed and into his chair, accepting the cup Hannibal offered him.

“I don’t know how you take it,” said Hannibal, attempting to be friendly.

“It doesn’t fucking matter,” he said, taking a gulp of his sugary coffee. He glanced up at Hannibal, surprised by the sickeningly sweet brew.

“You look like the type to ruin a perfectly good cup of coffee with entirely too much sugar,” he stated, smiling.

Tonny couldn’t help but grin at that. “Will thinks it’s disgusting,” he said, wiping his mouth.

“Will eats Pop-Tarts,” said Hannibal flatly, and Tonny laughed more than he felt he should have, as tensions between them began to ease.

Tonny thought for a moment before sharing his own anecdote. “He puts this marshmallow stuff on them too,” he said and he winced, recalling the taste of one of Will’s _special treats_. Hannibal grinned at his grimace. “I think they were a special thing when he was a kid,” continued Tonny. “His neighbor made them or something. He makes them for me and I give them to the dogs when he leaves. I just can't eat them,” he admitted, snickering to himself. Hannibal chuckled and leaned on his fist, staring at Tonny who was beaming at his memory.

They sat in silence, ruminating on the situation together before Hannibal spoke, “I want to apologize for my treatment of you, Tonny. My behavior was inexcusable. You were undeserving of it, and I'm sorry.”

Tonny sat back in his chair, his eyes widening. He was shocked that he even brought it up. “I’m sorry for talking about Will the way I did. I mean, it’s embarrassing now. I feel like a total fucking asshole.” Hannibal nodded, accepting his apology and Tonny loudly exhaled before continuing, “I don’t even know what the fuck to do now. I didn’t realize how much I need him,” he said, looking back at Will. “I'm a fucking mess … he is a mess … I don't even know how we are both still alive.” He started to chuckle at the absurdity until the reality of being in the hospital crashed over him, and he stuttered, growing ghostly white.

“He will be ok, Tonny,” reassured Hannibal. “Time will heal Will. Let’s just give him some time.”

Tonny felt like a child, but he took comfort in Hannibal’s words and once again, they plunged back into silence.

“Do you want to talk about anything?” asked Hannibal, attempting to break the ice.

Tonny thought for a moment and a smile crept across his face. “Tell me about your first drink,” he said, “of alcohol,” he clarified.

Hannibal’s eyes widened and he crossed his legs, thinking. “That’s an interesting request,” he mused.

“Will asked me at a restaurant once. We just shared our answers to all these questions. It was ... nice,” said Tonny, reliving their pub conversation in his head.

“Well I don’t recall my very first drink, but I do remember stealing wine from my father’s cellar at a pretty young age,” he said. “I’ve always been quick – undetectable.” He smiled and sipped his coffee. 

“I didn’t think you’d be a thief,” said Tonny.

“I have taken a great deal more from men than just their wine,” he confessed. “And you?”

“Beer from my father. I was ten,” he answered bluntly.

Hannibal nodded, smiling at his answer. He paused thinking of his own question to continue this, hopefully telling, conversation. “What's the first thing you do when you wake up?”

Tonny thought back to the last time he woke up. His foggy, tired thoughts coalesced on the memory of waking up in the middle of the night here, slumped over in a hospital chair. He pushed past it to search further back in his memory. He wandered through the halls of his mind to a normal average day at the farm, and he felt a flood of emotions surge through him. He remembered waking up and immediately scooping up Aksel, still warm from his crib. He thought about all the morning cigarettes he'd smoked, hanging out his bedroom window in the cool morning air; the howl and scratching of the dogs, begging to be let out; fumbling with his phone to turn off his buzzing alarm. Then he thought about how, on many mornings, he immediately looked into Will’s face. He would study him sleeping and silently thank a hidden higher power that Will was still in the house, still asleep, still safe within his bed. He remembered how, on many mornings, the first thing he did was thank the universe for giving him Will.

Hannibal watched Tonny’s face struggle with the pain of feeling lost and alone and the sadness of wondering what he would lose if Will didn’t wake up.

Tonny sighed before finally deciding on an answer. “Probably take a piss,” he said, gulping another swig of coffee. Hannibal nodded, understanding it was as personal an answer as Tonny was willing to admit. “You?” asked Tonny.

“Probably open my eyes,” he said with a grin.

Tonny scoffed and rolled his eyes. “That was fucking lame as hell, Lecter,” he laughed. Hannibal chuckled at his response. Suddenly, Tonny’s stomach groaned, protesting its lack of food for the last twenty-four hours. “Well, we know what strange shit Will eats – fucking Pop-Tarts – and he bitches all the time about how much I love of fries. But what about you? What is the strangest thing you've eaten?” asked Tonny, growing hungry at just the thought of food. “It’s probably like a lion or something a hundred-years-old, right?” he teased.

Hannibal thought for a while, combing the rooms in his mind for an appropriate answer. He had so many responses to choose from, so many exotic options to share. He decided on his most exciting meal. “I once cut off a man’s cheeks and ate them,” he said, relaxing into his chair. “You don’t have to cook them. They’re very tender.”

Tonny’s lip curled. “I knew you were a fucking psycho,” he laughed. “No, really though.”

Hannibal smiled. “Fugu. It’s a poisonous puffer fish from Japan,” he answered.

“Yeah, that sounds right – something poisonous,” mocked Tonny, rolling his eyes.

“It’s very good,” began Hannibal. “If you ever get the opportunity, it’s enlightening, if not a tad ... numbing.” He grinned and repeated the question back to Tonny wondering about his most interesting culinary experience.

“I went with my friend Frank once to a restaurant that had, I guess French food. He ordered snails,” he said, grimacing at the thought.

Hannibal’s eyes brightened and he chuckled. “Not a fan, I assume?” 

“No,” he laughed. “Frank was, though. He called me _unsophisticated_.”

“Ah, well, you’re nothing if not unsophisticated, Tonny,” he said and Tonny chuckled again. “And I mean that. You’re simple but genuine, though crude. But I like this Frank. He says it like it is.”

“You _would_ like him. He was a fucking prick, too,” declared Tonny.  

This banter with Tonny was far more entertaining to Hannibal than he would have assumed it to be. There was something oddly comforting about finding camaraderie with this man, someone who also shared a form of intimacy with his Will.  

Tonny, too, had been surprised by this strange new closeness they shared. Hannibal had helped to ease his pain and relax his unrelenting guilt. He was about to finally speak again, thanking him for his company, when they both heard a soft knock on the partially opened door. Layla slowly opened it and peered inside, her eyes saddening as her gaze fixated on Will in another horrified state.

“Oh my god,” she whispered, tearing up. She stepped into the room with Aksel half-asleep, laying on her shoulder. “Oh my god, Tonny,” she repeated, frowning at him. Tonny stood and went to her, picking up Aksel off her shoulder and wrapping his arms around her. She hugged him, still unable to look away from Will. “Is he going to be ok?” she asked, holding back tears.

“He'll be fine, Layla,” he assured her, repeating Hannibal's comforting words. She pulled away and moved to the foot of the bed, her shoulders slumping as she stared. Tonny stood beside her, rubbing her back comfortingly and leaning his cheek against Aksel’s blond hair.

Hannibal watched this small group of people share their pain with each other as they tried to make sense of their loved one’s suffering. He felt a kinship with them that he hadn’t felt with others.

Aksel stirred and lifted his head off Tonny’s shoulder to look around this bizarre and brightly-lit room. The toddler looked down at Hannibal, still seated in his chair and studied the face of this new stranger. Hannibal’s eyes locked on the child and he inhaled a silent gasp. 

Noticing this sudden and unexplainable reaction, Tonny asked, “Are you ok?” 

“This is Aksel?” asked Hannibal as he stood, still entranced by the child. Tonny nodded. “He–” Hannibal paused in total awe before continuing, “He looks exactly like my sister, Mischa,” he said, exhaling a long-held breath.

Tonny looked down at his son as though he would see it too. “Northern European thing, I guess,” he said, smiling at Hannibal. 

Hannibal, however, was not smiling. His heart was rapidly pounding in his chest, before it shattered, yet again, into a thousand tiny pieces. 


	36. A Thousand Dreadful Things

When Hannibal returned to the hospital room the next morning, Tonny was still asleep in a chair, his head laying on Will’s bed. He gently stirred as Hannibal crept closer, though he was attempting not to wake him.

When Tonny sat up to look around, Hannibal asked, “Did you stay all night again?”

“Yeah. I’m not leaving him. I said that already,” he answered, as he rubbed his red swollen eyes. 

“Have you eaten anything?” asked Hannibal, noting the side table and garbage can full of junk food wrappers.

“Just vending machine shit,” confessed Tonny.

Hannibal curled his lip. “I brought you something to eat. I assume you eat soup?” he asked, clearing off and setting a large cloth bag on the table.

“I would eat a fucking dog right now,” declared Tonny.

Hannibal emptied the bag, setting containers of soup on the table for him to enjoy when he was ready. Tonny nodded his appreciation as he immediately opened up a container. He hadn’t had hot food in days.

“What is it?” he asked, poking a bobbing black mass with his spoon.

"Silkie chicken in a broth with wolfberries, ginseng, ginger, red dates, and star anise,” Hannibal stated plainly. He furrowed his brows at Tonny’s confused look. “Chicken soup,” he explained.

“I don’t know what any of that shit is,” confessed Tonny, still staring at Hannibal, now with mild disgust.

“Well it’s a lot better than the dog you just admitted you’d be willing to eat,” scoffed Hannibal. Tonny snickered and acquiesced as he began to eat.

After a few minutes of Hannibal strumming his fingers on the chair and watching Tonny slurp soup he finally leaned forward and spoke, “Tonny, we need to discuss something that is going to be both painful and difficult for you to understand.”

Tonny stopped eating and his mouth dropped open. “What’s wrong? Is it about Will?”

“No,” said Hannibal, shaking his head. “I debated with myself about how to proceed with this discussion, but frankly I’m at a loss. And as I said, it might be painful to hear.”

“What is it?” asked Tonny, returning to the soup.

“It’s about what happened to you and me in 1987,” began Hannibal.

Tonny cocked his head, “What are you talking about, Lecter?”

Hannibal mulled the words over his tongue, pausing to gather his thoughts. Before he could continue, however, their discussion and their thoughts were interrupted. “What the hell are you eating?” strained a weak voice from the bed.

Tonny and Hannibal both swung around towards the bed to see Will, barely awake, staring at the bowl in Tonny’s hand. Tonny dropped it to the table and swiveled to the side of the bed. He smiled at Will, tears welling in his eyes.

Hannibal stood at the end of the bed, to better view Will’s movement. “How are you feeling?” he asked, grateful to see his friend finally awake.

“Like I was hit by a fucking truck,” confessed Will, wrapping his arms around his gut. “Can I sit up? I feel sick.”

Tonny messed with the buttons on the side of the bed until Will was able to look at both of them without much effort. “Fuck,” he breathed, and he winced as he blinked his eyes under the harsh hospital lights. He focused on Tonny staring at him from the side of the bed. “What are you smiling about?” he asked, grinning at Tonny’s watery eyes.

“You, you asshole,” softly scolded Tonny, sighing with relief. “You scared the shit out of me.”

“Well, that was not my intent,” he said, his voice low and gravelly. “Anyone care to tell me what the hell I’m doing here?” Hannibal briefly explained what happened in his office, and about the doctor’s diagnosis and prognosis. Will remained silent as he spoke, attempting to remember his own version of this seemingly irrational story. He hadn’t remembered the ambulance ride or even arriving at Hannibal’s office. All of that, though, seemed pointless to dwell on as he repeated in his mind a simple and barely heard detail muttered from Hannibal’s mouth – “1987”.

* * *

There was a lot to talk about but words seemed to have escaped them both. Everything was complicated – _overly_ complicated – and more was at stake than any of them were willing to acknowledge. While Tonny remained in the hall, talking to Layla on his phone, Hannibal had wanted to take this opportunity to speak to Will about the convoluted situation they all found themselves in, but he’d lost his ability to speak. When the silence became unbearable for them both, Hannibal picked up his coat and stood.

“Where are you going?” asked Will. He’d just woken up. It seemed strange to leave now.

“Home, Will,” said Hannibal, putting on his coat.

“But you don’t have to go. I want you to stay,” he pleaded, desperate to be surrounded by familiar faces. He couldn’t bare the thought of being alone now.

“You’re on the mend. And I think you have plenty of help here, Will. I’ll just get in the way,” decided Hannibal.

“Okay,” agreed Will, noting Hannibal’s unique brusqueness when it came to his final decisions on matters. “Thank you for being here,” he said as Hannibal turned to the door. “Thank you for staying with Tonny.”

“What are friends for, Will?” He said, smiling and briefly stopping to look at him. Will’s eyes were soft and mournful but his jaw was clenched tight as though he was tonguing a bitter pile of unspoken words. “Out with it, Will.”

He exhaled, gathering fortitude. “1987,” he said. “When did you know?”

Hannibal adjusted his coat and cleared his throat. “Your incessant questioning about Denmark had me curious. And then upon seeing him,” he scoffed. “I will admit there is a resemblance. He was an irresponsible mistake made by a seemingly invincible eighteen-year-old.”

“ _Mistake?_ ” repeated Will, shaking his head. “You don’t get to call him that.”

Hannibal sighed but didn’t deny it. “I don’t think he understood me when I began to tell him,” he said after a brief pause. “I’m not entirely sure how to revisit the topic now.”

“We have plenty of time to talk about it again,” said Will, furrowing his brows. Of course they had time. They had the rest of their lives. “You can come to dinner one night at the farm. We can all talk about it.” Hannibal nodded his head, feigning agreement. “What are the odds though?” mused Will, trailing off.

“Probably beyond any man’s comprehension,” said Hannibal, turning towards a commotion in the doorway.

Tonny bounded back in the room, now off the phone, and bounced excitedly back to Will, still beaming from the high of Will waking up. Hannibal nodded to him attempting to say goodbye.

“Where are you going?” asked Tonny.

“Home, Tonny. Now that Will is awake, I figured you two could discuss … whatever it is you two talk about,” he said bitterly.

Tonny stood, oblivious to Hannibal’s sour remarks, and thanked him. “I appreciate you coming here to see me,” he said.

Hannibal scoffed, “I came to see Will, Tonny. He is my friend. You just happened to be here.”

Will shook his head at Hannibal’s harshness, wondering why he bothered to talk to Tonny at all. Nevertheless, Tonny opened up his arms, offering a hug as he painfully smiled at Hannibal. He had appreciated the company and his reassuring words despite knowing how much Hannibal loathed him. Their conversations had brought him both comfort and a new perspective, not just of Hannibal but also of Will. He was beginning to see what it was that Will found so intriguing about him. He was calm and assertive and revered by his colleagues. He was in a position of power which Tonny had grown up regarding with fear and trepidation, but that position also commanded respect. All authority was to be feared and respected and Tonny hadn’t encountered that feeling since he’d fled Copenhagen.

Hannibal grumbled at Tonny’s open arms but accepted his fate as he embraced him. He softened into the hug, gently drawing Tonny’s head into his shoulder. His face relaxed and he closed his eyes, deeply inhaling against the man’s neck – cigarettes and hay. He smelled like a farm hand. 

When Hannibal opened his eyes again, Will was staring at him with a keen understanding of his new sense of remorse. He hadn’t wanted Tonny, but here he was, drudging up the murky pasts of all their lives. 

Tonny released him to return his full attention to Will, allowing a seemingly unfazed Hannibal to gather himself before leaving. Hannibal paused, however, to momentarily look back through the doorway from the busy hall. His son had joined Will in the hospital bed. He’d wrapped his arm around Will’s shoulders and was nuzzling his face and neck like a lost puppy. Though bandaged and still in pain, Will leaned on Tonny’s shoulder, smiling, talking, and gently laughing as they lost themselves in the moment, finally allowed to speak intimately with one another. 

Sorrow had enveloped Hannibal, though he would never show it. Tonny was touching Will’s face, stroking his jaw and neck in disbelief that the man was awake until he finally kissed him with such tangible relief that even Hannibal’s eyes turned glassy. Tonny pressed his lips against Will’s ear and whispered to him as Will’s eyes gently closed as he listened. With a sigh, Will buried his face in Tonny’s neck. There was nowhere he’d rather be than there, with Tonny at his side.

Hannibal had no emotional response to this. It was going to end however fate decided. As he hesitated in the doorway, Will’s attention to Tonny momentarily broke and he glanced up to see him still standing just outside, motionless and stoic. Hannibal feigned a bittersweet smile, as Will apologetically grinned back at him, empathizing with his self-inflicted suffering.


	37. Epilogue: I have Not Another Tear to Shed

Hannibal retired to his drawing room, a glass of wine in hand. He mulled over the last week in his mind, disgusted with the turn of events. It was not as though he had many options presented in front of him. One of them, though he had yet to decide, had to die.

Hannibal knew Will penetratingly well. He knew him in ways Tonny could never even fathom. He understood Will’s mind better than the man himself, but Tonny had explored Will in ways Hannibal had only imagined, and that sickened and annoyed him to no end. The mind did, unfortunately, have limits to its level of intimacy – limits that the hands, lips, and tongue could more appropriately explore, and not through culinary means, he silently mused. Will had needed this. He craved it. He had spent too long, alone and excluded, filled with anxiety and awkwardness, and unable to easily seek physical affection from others. Hannibal had been wholly willing to give Will anything he desired, had a mistake from his past not consoled the man in his stead.

Tonny, though, he also knew. Not well, of course, but there was little to know. Hannibal scoffed at the thought of Will actually enjoying his company – not just enjoying, but seeking it out. Will deserved so much more than that foul-mouthed savage. The man had been blinded by the warmth and the convenience of an inescapable body and it was shredding Hannibal internally. He rubbed his face with his hand and gulped his wine. Clearly, Tonny had to die. The choice was simple. He couldn’t punish Will while the object of his disgust still lived.

But then again … the son had done something the father had not expected. The son had created a child. Hannibal could not deny the resemblance of the young boy to his Mischa. It was heartbreaking even now just to recall the child's face. What would become of this beautiful creature, born from the throes of savagery and thrown into the grotesque world that had so haphazardly raised Tonny? Could he abandon another? Could he possibly send another born of his own blood into the world like a lamb to slaughter, yet again?

Was this pity? Was it guilt? What was this acrid taste in his mouth? It was bitter like bile and metallic. Remorse? Regret? Well, he did regret Tonny. He would regret Tonny every single day he was alive. _But no one can die,_ he thought. Though someone had to suffer this scorching indignity. Someone had to pay for this. He hissed and fought with himself, internally groping for an answer, and coming up more distressed and infuriated than before.

So he retreated into his memory palace to forget and seek refuge. He spent hours wandering around passageways, slipping in and out of memories and elaborately-reconstructed corridors. He slowly ascended a staircase dripping with a rich, red carpet over cold, marble steps until he reached the east-most wing. There on the wall, lit as though in its original permanent home within the _Quinta del Sordo_ , was depicted Goya’s grotesque representation of _Saturn Devouring his Son_. Hannibal studied it contemplatively, smelling the oils and thinners of this freshly created work, and stared into the eyes of Saturn as he chewed and mutilated his own child out of the fear of the usurpation of his power. Hannibal’s eyes were drawn down the back of the child, clearly an adult in shape and musculature, and he pondered how Saturn had let this threat grow so hazardous before consuming it. Hannibal continued down the hall past tableaus of objects from his youth, intricately displayed among perpetually fresh sprigs of guelder rose berries and their white umbels. He ran his hand along the clusters, releasing their faint but sweet aroma into the air around him. This hall would lead him back to his memories of childhood and the terrors that it brought to him.

His palace was vast. It housed thousands of rooms, not all pleasant and forgiving. Some held distant memories and secrets that had not been explored since their creation. Found within these rooms were objectionable thoughts and affairs that gave Hannibal a place to critically scrutinize his memories without fear, agony, or despair. Some wings were held in esteem and visited frequently, like an old friend or a favorite passage from a book. This hall had not been walked in decades.

Past a line of busts depicting several distinguished philosophers illuminated by spotlights hanging from the opulently high ceilings, he made his way to an intricately carved, red wooden door. He noticed, to his left, far down the dimly lit hallway, was a large boulder which curiously caught his attention. He approached the boulder on which perched the fish-tailed woman, _Den lille Havfrue_. This was puzzling to Hannibal as the Danish bronze statue of a mermaid had never lived in this corridor before. The first time he had looked upon this statue was as a young man near the waterside at the Langelinie promenade in Copenhagen. He inspected the statue now living here. It didn’t feel out of place, but it certainly wasn’t a welcome change.

He slowly returned to the wooden door and opened it, stepping inside within the twilight. Cold rain – no – a thick, heavy snow fell upon him in the dusk. He could feel the flames licking at his mother’s dress as she lay unmoving on the ground beside him. Fragments of memories and painful recollections drew hisses and moans out of Hannibal’s lips as he was forced back towards his creation. He was piling snow, faster and faster, his hands burning from the ice and not the flames that lapped his skin, and then he was static, lying on the cellar floor, though not alone. A bundle lay quivering beneath him. He scrambled back, clutching the being that whimpered at the noises erupting overhead. In the blackness, he illuminated her with a hastily made fire and looked upon his sister Mischa's face, so small and cold and fragile. And together they held each other and sang to cover the howls from the wolves in the darkness that loomed above them.

When he finally emerged from his palace, at peace though contemplative, Hannibal had come to a decision as to who would suffer for this agony he was forced to endure. He, himself, would suffer for them all – at least for now.

This was, after all, the greatest gift he could give the man he desired. He would give Will his own flesh and blood for the companionship he sought. He could even give him the child he so desperately coveted. What he could not give him, however, was his undying devotion while forced to watch him grow and flourish apart from him. As much as it pained him to realize, if he couldn’t have Will in his entirety, he would be forced to leave him.

He stood up, exhausted from several hours of meditation and slowly walked to his kitchen, cataloging his belongings and the memories he had created within these walls. As much as he'd enjoyed his life in Baltimore, he knew he couldn't stay there. It would all end badly if he did. He turned off the lights in the kitchen and ascended the stairs to gather up what remained of his life. They had unknowingly forced his hand, so rather than tip his cards, he'd leave. A time would inevitably come when they'd both regret their choices as Hannibal was nothing if not ruthless when it came to correcting such rude and ungrateful behavior.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


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